


Forging the Shield

by Politzania



Series: The Shield Saga [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Comment Fic, Eventual Smut, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, No mpreg, Omega Bucky Barnes, Oral Sex, Pre-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes would have been the last person Steve Rogers (or anyone else) would have guessed to be an omega.  Tall, strong and devilishly handsome, Bucky could charm any gal he laid his eyes on.  In short, he was everything Steve himself was not.But he and Bucky had been best friends since grammar school days and had helped each other out of untold scrapes.  So when Bucky appeared at the doorstep of  Steve and his ma’s apartment one night after being kicked out of the house, of course he was welcome.  Little did either of them suspect Mother Nature had another surprise for them both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a prequel to [ To Shield From the Storm](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11409138/chapters/25556082) but can be read as a stand alone. Depending on your definition, this fic could be considered Underage, as Bucky just graduated high school and Steve is in his senior year. 
> 
> FYI: The first chapter is Gen/Teen, with the second chapter edging over to Mature. Chapter Three is where the fic goes Explicit. The fic will update weekly, with new chapters going up mid-week.

Chilled to the bone from the January wind,  Steve Rogers leaned against his apartment door to knock the snow from his boots before entering.  He heard his mother’s voice, quiet but assured.    “I really can’t say for sure right now, Winifred.  James’ heart and lungs sound fine, and he’s not showing the kind of muscle weakness or stiffness that we’d see in polio.  It could be anemia, I suppose, but if he feels better in a few days, then shows the same symptoms in about three months, it’s a good sign.”

 “Good?”  Mrs. Barnes’ outraged reply was quite loud in contrast.  With four children ranging from late teen to grammar school, she was used to making her voice carry.  “‘Good’  ain’t the word comin’ to mind, Sarah. Just because you’re resigned to your boy probably --”

 “We’re not talking about Steve, here,”  his mother cut Mrs. Barnes off sharply.  “If you’re truly that concerned about James, you ought to take him to the doctor.  There’s a simple blood test--”

 “No! If I take my Jimmy to the clinic and it does turn out to be...”  she broke off for a moment.  “Then they’ll write it down all official.  I won’t subject my son to that.”  Being barely literate herself, Mrs. Barnes was suspicious of paperwork and forms.  Bucky had said it was like pulling teeth to get her to register him for high school.

 “Well, that’s for you to decide, then,” His mother’s tone was brisk and businesslike.   “In the meanwhile,  go talk to Mrs. O’Meara and perhaps she can help ease your mind as well as provide a little relief. Now, Winifred, I have to be getting ready for work.  It was nice to see you again.”

 Steve backed down the hall, a little surprised that his mother had mentioned Miz O’Meara. She was a spinster from the Old Country who acted as midwife and healer for those who couldn’t afford to go to the hospital.  She also offered up all sorts of herbal remedies for what ailed you, some of which were useful, others mostly alcohol.   Steve pretended to come back up the stairs again as Mrs. Barnes left the apartment.  They greeted one another, and she went on her way.   

 “Ma,  what’s wrong with Bucky?”  Steve asked the moment he was in the apartment.

 “And good afternoon to you, son,” his mother replied, with just a hint of disapproval.  “What have I told you about listening at the keyhole?”

 “I didn’t intend to, but Bucky’s ma is kind of hard to ignore.  Besides, he’s my best friend.”   It wasn’t fair.  Steve was supposed to be the sick one, while Bucky had always been the picture of health.

 “James is going to be just fine.  He may be going through some changes, however, and he’ll need you to continue to be his friend.”   Sarah patted the couch, indicating that Steve should sit next to her.  “What do you know about alphas and omegas?”    

 She had used the same strategy when they’d had the ‘now that you’re growing up’ talk.  It had been profoundly embarrassing to tell his mother what he’d picked up from eavesdropping on the older boys, but she simply listened,  correcting or expanding on what he was telling her without any hint that she thought he was ‘bad’ or ‘dirty’.  She treated the whole matter of sex as if it were a normal human function, like eating or breathing.  

 Steve didn’t quite understand why she was bringing up this topic, but replied, “Well, they’re pretty darned rare, for one thing.” He didn’t think he knew anyone personally who had gone through that secondary change after puberty.   “Being an alpha makes you more of a man -- and an omega, more of a woman. Like Babe Ruth, and Teddy Roosevelt, for example.   Or Mary Pickford and Clara Bow.  Wait, are you saying that Bucky’s gonna be an alpha?”          

 “Not exactly. After all, a few women become alphas, and some men become omegas.” Steve blushed a little; of course, they existed as well, but were considered  inverts,  people whose desires were skewed, perverted.  But that wasn’t Bucky in the slightest.  He was brave and smart and strong; he competed in the local Golden Gloves tournament and had half the girls at school mooning over him.  

 “You gotta be wrong, Ma.  Bucky’s not like that. He wouldn’t go gay in a million years.”

 “Most people assume that male omegas and female alphas are automatically homosexual; that, perhaps, it’s this secondary change that causes it, but we don’t know that for sure,”  his mother explained.  She went on to discuss omega cycles and alpha attraction; how both groups emitted scents that regular people couldn't detect. Sarah also explained the physical changes both alphas and omegas go through to make them sexually compatible with each other.   

 “This means an alpha can get an omega pregnant, regardless of whether they are men or women.”  Steve had heard of that, but assumed it was something along the lines of bearded ladies and  dog-faced boys: a freak of nature that was faked more often than it was real.  

 His mother went on to explain that while it was easy to believe in the stereotypes, alphas and omegas really were much the same as everyone else.  “It doesn’t change the kind of person someone is,”  she concluded.   “Should James turn out to be an omega, I don’t expect you to treat him any differently.  I hope I’ve raised you better than that.”

 “Of course, Ma.  Bucky’s my best friend, practically a brother. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

 She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.  “That’s good to know, Steven.  And perhaps we’re simply borrowing trouble.  It may be that James is just a bit under the weather after all.”

 

Bucky was back to his usual self by the end of the week, and shrugged off any attempt by Steve to talk about what both their mothers had been so concerned about.  As the winter months passed, Steve still had a difficult time imagining that his best friend could possibly become an omega.  Especially when he himself fit the stereotype so much better: being slight of build, preferring art to sports and pretty much a failure when it came to girls.   Steve was practically resigned to the fact that everyone assumed he was an omega already;  but Bucky would have none of it.   He’d been in a half-dozen fights since the holidays, the mere whisper of ‘fairy’  or ‘queer’ in reference to Steve would send his fists flying.  

That didn’t mean there wasn’t a glimmer of truth in those accusations.  Steve was coming to realize that his appreciation of Bucky’s appearance wasn’t strictly artistic. Over the past few months, his friend’s features had sharpened slightly, his jawline growing more angular and the cleft in his chin becoming more prominent.  Bucky’s eyes were never the same color two days running, and his lips were the envy of all the neighborhood girls.  He had gone out for track and was training for a few of the sprint events , as well as javelin and Steve couldn’t deny he was looking forward to seeing Bucky competing in the school uniform: shorts and tank top.

But then Bucky ended up missing a few days of classes in mid-April, and it seemed  Mrs. Barnes’ worst fear had come true. She still refused to take Bucky to the doctor, and he was equally as resistant.  Steve couldn’t blame him;  male omegas weren’t allowed to join the military, and faced plenty of unofficial discrimination as well.   

When Steve brought over Bucky’s missed schoolwork, Mrs. Barnes wouldn’t even give him the time of day.  It was as if she resented the fact that it had been her son who had turned into an omega and not him.   Steve entered Bucky’s darkened bedroom. It was tiny, with barely room for the single-sized bed,  a bureau and a battered old chair, but it was private; Bucky’s three sisters all shared a bedroom.   “I brought your schoolwork home, Buck.  I know you don’t want to get behind.”

“Thanks.”  His friend’s voice was quiet and rough, emanating from a pile of blankets on the bed.

“Anything else I can do?”

“Nah, just the fact that you showed up here helps,” Bucky replied, uncovering his head.  “I guess your Ma told you what’s happenin’ to me, huh?”  His voice wavered a bit, as if he were trying to be brave, but not quite succeeding.

“A little.” While he was more than a bit curious, Steve wasn’t about to ask his friend about the physical symptoms his mother had described in clinical detail.    “But it doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still pals.”  

“I was hopin’ you’d say somethin’ like that.” The relief in Bucky’s reply was clear.  “This fever ‘n’  chills is gonna be the death of me, though.”   He threw off the blankets, and Steve’s mouth went dry at the sight of his friend clad only in his boxers, his bare, sweaty chest heaving slightly.  Steve dropped into the chair and pulled the stack of books over his lap to hide his quickly swelling interest.

“Hey,  guess what old man Richards said in class today...”  Steve said hastily in an effort to distract both himself and his friend. Steve got Bucky caught up on the latest gossip going around, finally leaving when Mrs. Barnes announced that dinner was almost ready.  

Bucky quickly returned to his old self,  taking Mary Donnelly to the Spring Dance and consistently placing in the top three in nearly every track meet.   It should have been easy for Steve to forget all about his best friend’s new status, but instead, it felt as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

Steve started checking his own temperature almost obsessively, as a persistent low-grade fever was one of the first symptoms of the second change.  But he’d always run a little cold in the wintertime, and it was difficult to tell if a rise of a few degrees was simply a reflection of the change of seasons.  His mother also seemed a little more concerned about his general well-being, which only fed into his assumption.  But there were bills to pay and classes to study for, so their lives continued on much as they always had.  

 

Bucky graduated that spring and took a job at a local shipping company, splitting his time between the front office and the warehouse.  He got Steve a part time job as well for the summer,  working as an office boy and filing clerk.  The company was in an old building next to a large empty lot.  It had been a dry, warm spring, and with every stray breeze, dust billowed up and through the open windows of their offices. 

 While being in that sort of environment had been a recipe for asthma attacks in the past,  Steve was surprised to find it scarcely bothered him at all.   Other than having caught a late spring cold that flirted with pneumonia for a few days,  Steve had been surprisingly healthy, at least compared to previous years.  He even had enough energy at the end of the day to more or less keep up with Bucky on their walk back to their own neighborhood.

Despite working hard in general, Steve was afraid he would be fired when the manager caught him doodling one afternoon.  Mr. Samuels instead showed interest in Steve’s artistic abilities and asked him to work on some advertising signs, offering to pay him a little extra for each piece he completed.  While Steve dutifully handed over his paychecks to his mother, she insisted he keep the money from the signs for himself.  This meant that by the time Steve’s birthday rolled around, he had enough cash saved up for him and Bucky both to spend the entire  Fourth of July holiday out at Coney Island.   

“Don’t hardly seem fair, Steve,” Bucky protested as they got on the streetcar.  “It’s your birthday and it’s like I’m getting the present!”

“I wouldn’t have the dough if it weren’t for you getting me this job, Buck. Consider it a thank you.” He nudged his best friend’s shoulder with a smile.    As they rode out to the shore,  Steve reflected that this jaunt was really a present to himself, an indulgence where he could spend the entire day with the best person in his life, who he was half in love with and falling more deeply for every day.  

They started out on the Boardwalk,  Bucky trying his luck at the midway games.  He won a Coney Island pennant, which he gave to Steve.  “Your real present is still back home; figured it’d be silly to haveta bring it all the way out here ‘n then all the way back.”  Next up was the amusement park.  Steve made the mistake of letting Bucky talk him on to the Cyclone;  they spent the next hour sitting on a bench as  Steve recovered from his embarrassing bout of sickness.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” Bucky apologized profusely.  “I figured since you been feelin’ better and all, maybe you’d be up to it this year. You don’t look near as pale ‘n pasty  as you used to,  and I think you’ve put on a few pounds.”

“Is that how you compliment the gals you’re stepping out with, pal?”   Steve teased.    But he definitely felt as if he had more energy, and interest in the world around him.  In addition to the artwork he was doing for his job, he’d started drawing again in earnest.  While he took inspiration wherever he could find it, Steve found himself often using Bucky as his subject.  

Whether it was his hands, large and capable, or his striking profile, or the sparkle of laughter that was almost always present in his eyes,  Steve couldn’t help but create countless sketches featuring his friend.  Even now, as he fought down waves of nausea, Steve itched to capture Bucky’s expression of concern in a few quick strokes.  

As Bucky continued to fuss over him,  Steve added, “I’ll be okay.  Why don’t you go change and I’ll catch up in a few?”   They’d brought swim clothes in case they decided to take a dip in the ocean.  Steve felt self-conscious in the too-large one piece he borrowed from Bucky, knowing he bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a plucked chicken.   Bucky, however, filled out his own suit exceedingly well and Steve could have watched him dive off the pier all day.   

Steve’s appetite finally came back, and after a couple of hot dogs, they spent the rest of the afternoon walking and talking,  people-watching and just enjoying their time together.  They split a giant basket of fried clams for dinner, then joined the throng on the beach for the fireworks, digging a makeshift bench into the sand and lining it with their towels.  The wind off the ocean grew cooler after sunset, and Steve basked in the warmth rolling off of Bucky’s body, sitting as near as he dared.  

The crowded trolley gave Steve even more of an excuse to get close to Bucky, as it was standing room only. He positioned himself right next to one of the roof supports, motioning Bucky to stand behind him and reach over his shoulder to grab the pole.  He could almost pretend Bucky was holding him in his arms, and it made Steve forget his sore feet and sunburnt skin whenever a bump of the track threw their bodies into brief contact.  

“C’mon by my place real quick so I can give you your present,” Bucky said as they got off at their stop.  Steve was exhausted by this time, but couldn’t resist the chance to stay in Bucky’s company a few minutes longer. Besides, he was curious to see what his friend had gotten him.  Everyone else was asleep, so they crept into the kitchen.  “Here ya go.”  Bucky handed over a rectangular package.

It was a set of  drawing pencils, and a  fancy notebook that must’ve set Bucky back at least a half-day’s pay.  “I noticed you been drawing again and figured you needed something nicer than an old scratch pad from school.  Did I do okay?”

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Buck.”   Steve impulsively embraced his friend, holding in a sigh as Bucky wrapped his strong arms around him.  

“You’re welcome, pal.”  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's next cycle is an education for Steve; then, due to events beyond his control, Bucky comes to stay with Steve and Sarah just in time for another heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - this is where the fic starts to earn its Mature rating. Note the tags...

Even though disapproval was clear in every line of Mrs. Barnes’ face and body, she was polite when she asked Steve if he would come over and try to convince Bucky to have something to eat or drink. It seemed their outing to Coney Island had somehow triggered Bucky’s cycle to start a few days early -- Steve had been keeping track -- and he was having a more difficult time than before. 

Steve tapped Bucky’s door with the edge of the tray that held a pitcher of lemonade and plate of sandwiches. “Hey, Buck, can I come in?” There was a faint, noncommittal grunt in reply, which Steve took as a ‘yes’. 

The room was filled with the smell of the ocean; surely Bucky had bathed since they’d been out to the shore -- maybe he’d forgotten to hang his swimsuit up to dry? Steve set the tray down on the bureau and moved to stand beside his friend’s bed. The streaks of light peeking around the curtain revealed Bucky to be dozing, naked as a jaybird, a corner of the sheet barely preserving his modesty. 

Blushing as hard as he ever had, Steve nudged Bucky’s bare shoulder. “C’mon, pal. You need to wake up a little, have something to eat ‘n drink. Since you’re too big for your ma to take over her knee, she asked me to come in and give you what for instead.” 

Bucky stirred, looking up at Steve with half-lidded eyes, an anticipatory smile slowly stealing across his face. “Hey, darlin’,” he slurred, his hands coming up to clumsily paw at the front of Steve’s shirt. “C’mere and gimme a--” Bucky stopped abruptly, his eyes flying open and his hands jerking back as if he’d touched a hot stove. 

“Steve!” Bucky cried, “Jeeze, I’m sorry, I dunno what I was...” He shook his head as if to clear it, and swallowed thickly as he pulled the sheet back up around him. “ ‘M having trouble keeping straight what’s for real ‘n what my mind’s makin’ up.” 

“Maybe if you got some food in you, it would help,” Steve replied, trying not to feel jealous as he wondered who Bucky’s half-conscious words and actions had been intended for. “There’s lemonade and sandwiches. Your ma has chicken noodle soup on the stove, too.” 

“Eat with me? I’m tired of being all by myself. Ma won’t let the girls even come in to talk to me.” Bucky sounded absolutely mournful; unlike Steve, he’d always been a very social person, and loved his sisters dearly. Steve poured the lemonade, and brought the plate of sandwiches over. He only took half a sandwich, as he’d already had supper and Bucky needed the meal. 

Bucky sat up to eat, the sheet wrapped around his waist. The room was warm and Steve tried very hard not to stare at the drops of sweat trickling down his friend’s chest. “Did you skip work today and take your sketchbook to the park, Steve?” Bucky’s question startled him from his reverie. 

“No -- why do you ask?” 

“Smells like you been out in the fresh air all day instead of cooped up in an office,” Bucky commented. “Or maybe I’ve just been stuck in here too long.” He sighed in frustration. 

“What’s it like, Buck?” Steve asked, before he could think better of the question. At Bucky’s hesitant expression, he backpedaled. “I mean, you don’t haveta say, of course. I just... well,” he shrugged. “Ma told me some, but you know how she is.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, she’s the only person I know who could make all this sound as boring as brushing your teeth.” He gave Steve a speculative look. “What do you wanna to know?” 

“What does it feel like? I mean, besides the bad stuff, the fever ‘n chills and stomach cramps. Is it like, y’know, bein’ hard all the time?” Steve could feel his cheeks burn, but his curiosity burned more. If he could be better prepared, maybe changing would be easier. 

“Yeah, kinda,” Bucky replied, looking down at his hands. “But it’s more like that feeling, y’know, when you have to sneeze? And then you don’t? It’s kinda like that, over ‘n over. And then there’s this hollow feeling inside, part of me aching to be full.” 

Bucky blushed as he made this vague reference to the purpose of going through a heat, and Steve’s pulse unaccountably raced in response. “And then what?” he found himself asking.

Bucky looked away and shrugged. Steve knew his friend well enough to know when he was hiding something. He had figured out something to help satisfy that need, and just the mere thought riled Steve up almost instantly. He clutched the plate to his lap in desperation. 

“You okay, pal? You’re all flushed and breathing funny -- I thought you weren’t having asthma attacks anymore.” Steve almost burst out laughing at Bucky’s misplaced concern. His lungs were fine; what was in his pants was the problem. 

“M’ok, Buck, thanks,” he replied, trying to even out his breathing. “Guess I should go, let you get some rest.” 

“Okay, Steve. And thank you. For ... well... everything.” 

 

Once again, Bucky bounced back from his confinement and life went on much as it had before. His latest gal, Dot Reynolds, had given him the cold shoulder for awhile -- she thought he’d stood her up when he was otherwise occupied -- but she eventually came around. Steve dutifully went along on a half-dozen double dates, as Dot worked through her girlfriends in an attempt to find Steve a steady gal. 

Thankfully Bucky was able to keep his job after missing several days, albeit after quite a bit of groveling with his supervisor. Steve, planned on quitting once school started, but Mr. Samuels asked if he’d be interested in keeping up with the signs and advertisements for the company, even bumping his pay offer slightly. So between Steve’s classes and freelance work, and Bucky’s job and on-again, off-again romance with Dot, they didn’t get to see a lot of each other. 

Steve’s mother passed along the news that Bucky’s father -- step father, actually -- was coming back home. Mr. Barnes had been away since the start of the year, working various odd jobs upstate. He sent money home when he could, and between Mrs. Barnes taking in laundry and Bucky’s contributions, the family was keeping their heads above water. He’d finally been able to work some connections and get a decent job back in their neighborhood and would be back in town in a few days.

Mr. Barnes and his stepson hadn’t been on the best of terms when he’d left; and Steve wondered just how well the homecoming would go over. But it was still a surprise when, one night early in October, Bucky came knocking on the Rogers’ apartment door. It had been raining, and Bucky had a suitcase. 

“Buck? What’s going on?” 

“Pops said since I had a full time job of my own now, he didn’t see any reason I shouldn’t be getting a place of my own as well.” Bucky shrugged, but there was a tenseness to his stance.

“Seems like he coulda given you a coupla days to scare something up first, huh?” 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t just bein’ independent. Ma never told him about my transition. Guess you could say he didn’t handle the news well.” Bucky huffed out a short, bitter laugh and Steve noticed his cheek looked red and swollen, as if from a blow. “Called me a pervert and didn’t want me around his girls. Guess he was afraid it was catching.” Bucky was putting on a brave front, but Steve knew how much he loved his sisters and how he’d never do anything to harm them.

Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face before he continued. “So, I was gonna head down the street to a boarding house or something, but it’s just about my time and I s’pose that ain’t such a good idea. Think I could bunk down here, just for a few days?” As if he even had to ask. 

“Of course, Buck,” Steve answered with a smile. “You know Ma thinks the world of you. Take whatever time you need. The sofa’s none too comfy, but it’s all yours.” 

“Thanks, pal.” Bucky, still holding his suitcase, gave Steve a clumsy, one-armed hug. Steve caught a strong smell of the ocean and it finally clicked that it must be Bucky’s omega scent. Being able to detect it convinced Steve even more that he must be just about ready to transition himself. While he didn’t envy his mother having to deal with two omegas going through their heats at the same time, having Bucky around would be a comfort. 

The alarm woke Steve the next morning from an extremely vivid dream that left him gasping for breath in the best way, and after a moment, he was a bit sticky as well. Thankful that they sent their laundry to Mr. Lee instead of Bucky’s ma, Steve wadded up his nightshirt and hid the evidence at the bottom of the bag. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look his pal in the face right now, after what they’d gotten up to in his fevered imagination. 

But Bucky had already gone, leaving a note that he’d be back that evening. Apparently he was feeling good enough to go to work or take care of some errands. When his Ma got back from her night shift, Steve already had a hot meal ready for her and told her about Bucky. 

“Damn that man,” she replied when she heard what Mr. Barnes had done. “I don’t know why Winifred stays with him.” Steve was surprised to hear such a comment from his mother; for despite her no-nonsense attitude toward relations between men and women, she was a devout Catholic. “I told her that it wasn’t a good idea for James to be out and about alone in the city when he was close to his time.” 

A surge of jealousy washed over Steve. The idea that anyone might take advantage of Bucky, especially when he was so vulnerable made him see red. It was bad enough to see Dot and Bucky together, but to imagine his friend with an alpha, someone who could give him what he truly needed... 

“Steven, dear, are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize it could be a problem,” Steve willed his heart to slow and his clenched fists to loosen. “ I mean Bucky’s plenty able to take care of himself, ya know?” 

“Of course,” she replied comfortingly. “It’s just that there are some who might take advantage of James’ good nature. Omegas can be somewhat suggestible, especially during their cycle.” That wasn’t helping Steve’s sense of concern. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she continued. “Listen, since I’m working nights this week, why don’t you take my bed and let James sleep in yours? That sofa is much too small for him.” Their apartment only had a single bedroom and Steve and his mother shared it, a sheet hanging between their beds providing a small bit of privacy. 

“Thanks, Ma. I’ll let him know.” Steve had to cut the conversation short, otherwise he’d be late for school. He tried to concentrate on his classes, but his thoughts kept drifting. Was Bucky working the loading dock today? Or maybe he was on the shipping desk -- his eye for figures made him a valuable resource there as well. But just how close was he to the peak of his cycle? Steve had meant to check the calendar that morning, but had gotten sidetracked. He raced home after school, but Bucky wasn’t waiting and hadn’t left a note.

In fact, Bucky didn’t return to the apartment until after Steve’s mother had left for work. He looked tired, and irritably fended off Steve’s questions. “Yes, I went to work. Hadta tell them I’d be missing a few days otherwise they’d can me for good. Then I went lookin’ for somewhere to live, so’s I wouldn’t be moochin’ off you and your Ma. Hope that’s okay, Officer Rogers.” 

“Fine -- ya don’t gotta bite my head off, Buck. I was worried, that’s all.” Steve replied sullenly. “Lemme see if we got some ham in the icebox, and I’ll make sandwiches.” He turned towards the kitchen when Bucky suddenly doubled over, grabbing at the doorframe. “What’s wrong?” 

“Cramps.” Bucky spat out from between gritted teeth. “Just gimme a minute.” Steve came over and helped him to the sofa, then went to the bathroom for some aspirin, handing them over, along with a glass of water. 

Once Bucky downed the medicine, Steve said, “Ma said sometimes rubbing her back helps with cramps ‘n such.” It wasn’t quite a lie; Steve had pored through the medical section of the library in hopes of finding any scraps of information about omegas and alphas. According to what he’d read, physical touch was something omegas craved during their cycle, preferably from their alpha, but Steve figured he was better than nothing. 

Bucky nodded permission, tensing slightly as Steve put his hand on his lower back and moved it in slow circles. But then Bucky leaned forward further with a small sigh of relief and his shoulders slowly relaxed. After several minutes, he murmured “Thanks, pal,” and patted Steve’s knee as he sat back up. “Wish I had some of Miz O’Meara’s elixir. Smells to high heaven, but it helps. Didn’t have a chance to grab what we had at home before Pops kicked me out.”

After dinner, Steve stayed up to finish some homework and read while Bucky retired early, claiming exhaustion. About ten o’clock, Steve went to bed as well. He was just starting to drift off to sleep, when he heard Bucky make a frustrated sound and toss the covers back. Steve almost asked what was wrong when he heard a quiet moan; not one of pain, but of pleasure. 

Steve froze, holding his breath even as Bucky’s own breathing quickened. Bucky had apparently forgotten that -- unlike at home -- he was sharing a room, as he made little effort to stifle the sounds he was making. Steve’s imagination raced, and almost involuntarily, his hand stole to his own quickly hardening cock as he listened to his best friend, the man he was irredeemably attracted to, jerk himself off. 

As Bucky’s moans and pants increased in volume and frequency, Steve threw his arm across his face to muffle his own groans of pleasure. It was all too easy to pretend it was Bucky’s hand stroking up and down his length, giving the head just the right kind of twist and squeezing just this side of too hard. Bucky’s omega scent hung heavy in the air, and Steve drank it in. 

“Yeah, like that...” Bucky murmured to himself, and now Steve imagined it was Bucky’s cock he was holding; his touch coaxing those sweet sounds out of his companion. Steve bit down fiercely on his lip, the idea of bringing Bucky to the peak of pleasure somehow even more arousing than the thought of Bucky doing for him. With a final, drawn out groan, Bucky came, and Steve followed silently, shuddering uncontrollably from head to toe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaken by the events of the previous night, Steve spends a restless day out and about, including running an errand for Bucky. When he gets home, Sarah tells Steve she'll be working a double shift and for him and James to take care of one another while she's gone. It seems they're going to do as they were told.

After pleasuring himself, Bucky seemed to fall into a deep sleep; but Steve found himself unable to follow. Wracked with guilt at having used his friend’s desperate condition to fuel his own fantasies, Steve tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning.  He finally got up, dressed and left a note for Bucky.  Grabbing his school books and sketch book, Steve walked to the hospital to meet his mother after her shift.

“Steven? Is everything alright with Bucky?”  Despite her clear weariness, Sarah Rogers’ first thought was for her new charge.  Steve felt a strange sense of conflict, unsure whether to be more envious of her concern for his friend, or resentful that she thought he couldn’t take care of Bucky. 

“As far as I know, “ Steve replied evasively, “he was sleeping when I left.”  Essaying a bright smile as a distraction he continued, “Thought I'd come out and treat my best girl to breakfast before going to class.”  Steve held out his arm for his mother, who smiled back and slid her hand through the crook of his arm. 

After they ate, Steve and his mother headed in different directions.  Steve cut class,  wandering the streets aimlessly and unable to keep his mind off Bucky.  The blustery weather finally drove him to the library, where he found a secluded corner and pulled out his sketch book.  Steve’s drawings started out innocently enough, with scenes from the seaside recalling his and Bucky’s trip out to Coney Island from a few months before.  

But then Steve found he was sketching the smooth arch of Bucky's form diving off the pier, followed by him walking out of the waves, hands smoothing back his hair. In the drawing, Bucky’s chest was bare, with rivulets of water dripping down and his swim trunks were wet and clinging. 

Steve turned the page, and almost compulsively continued, drawing the scene he’d imagined last night. Bucky stretched out across the bed in all his glory,  one hand resting lazily on his hip in anticipation. The expression Steve drew on Bucky’s face was all too familiar, the seductive grin and sparkling eyes that never failed to charm whichever gal had caught Bucky’s attention.   But in this sketch, it was only for him, for Steve. 

With a growl of frustration, Steve slammed the book shut, knowing he’d have to tear that page out and burn it; but he couldn’t get the memories of last night out of his head.  God help him,  he wanted to be the one wringing those muffled desperate sounds out of Bucky. Wanted to see Bucky’s eyes alight with need, with lust, and know that he was the only one who could truly satisfy that desire. 

Steve strode back out onto the streets, hoping the raw wind and rain would cool his heated imagination or at least provide a distraction.  He remembered Bucky’s comment about Miz O’Meara and after checking in with a few neighbors, he found her address.   A strong smell of fermenting apples wafted out when she opened the door; Steve supposed she was making cider or some other sort of concoction. 

 “Yes?” she asked, sounding impatient as she wiped her hands clean of whatever she’d been working on.  Her nose wrinkled as she looked him up and down. “Oh, you’re Sarah Rogers’ boy, aren’t you?” 

 “Yes, ma’am.  I’m Steve, Steve Rogers.  Ma asked me  to stop by and pick up some more of your remedy for cramps.  She’s having some female troubles.”  The lie came easily to his lips, despite his blush. 

 “And what about you, my boy?”  She fixed him with a sharp look.

“I’m feeling fine, ma’am,” Steve answered, almost defensively.  But he meant it; despite the blustery weather, Steve wasn’t as short of breath as he normally would be, and the joint aches that usually accompanied such a forecast were non-existent. 

 Miz O’Meara snorted, then said,  “Well, come in and let me see what I have.”  She gestured to a fragile-looking chair while she bustled off to what Steve assumed was the kitchen. 

 “You’re friends with that Barnes boy, aren’t you?” she called out from the other room.

 “Yes,  ma’am.” 

 “Heard his step-dad was back in town. Decided it was time for the boy to find a place of his own all sudden-like.”     Steve shook his head - gossip spread like wildfire between the old ladies of the neighborhood.  “I s’pose your Ma offered to let him stay awhile?” 

 “Yes, ma’am.” Steve was starting to feel like a broken record.  “Just til he finds a place of his own.”   Miz O’Meara came back out, a small stoppered bottle in her hands. 

 Steve breathed shallowly through his mouth as she came over to give it to him; the sickly-sweet smell of the cider press clinging to her clothes.  “What do I owe you?” he asked. 

 “I’ll settle up with your Ma when I see her again.  Although this isn’t for her, is it, Steven?”  He met her eyes with a steady gaze; Bucky’s status wasn’t his tale to tell.  After a few moments, Miz O’Meara simply nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face.   “I see.  Well,  I hope this does the job, then.  Tell James I wish him well and he’s lucky to have a good friend like you.” 

“I will.  Thank you.”  

The wind was against Steve for the long walk home, the occasional spattering of sleet stinging against his skin.  Despite being chilled to the bone, the moment Steve entered the apartment and caught a whiff of Bucky’s scent,  the heat of desire bloomed in his core once again. 

“Welcome home, son.”  His mother, still in her robe, had just stepped out of the bedroom. “Is it as nasty out as it looks?” 

“More or less,” Steve replied, shedding his slicker and hanging it up carefully.  “How’s Bucky?”  

“Very restless, bless his heart,” Sarah shook her head. “He apologized for keeping me up, but I told him I could sleep through the last trump.  I was just going to get him something to drink before I started getting ready for work.  Do you want to take it in to him?” 

Steve didn’t,  but couldn’t think of any excuse not to.   “Sure.” 

Clutching the glass of water as if it were a shield, Steve knocked on the door.   “Hey, Buck, are ya decent?” 

“Yeah. C’mon in.”  The room was dim, with the privacy curtain drawn.  Steve nudged it aside to see Bucky sitting on the side of the bed, looking unnaturally pale, with dark circles under his eyes.    “Whatcha been up to, champ?”

Steve’s face grew hot as he thought of the sketches he’d drawn. “Nothin’ much.  Brought you some water.”   Steve passed the glass over, the mere brush of Bucky’s hand sending shivers of want down his spine.  “You doin’ okay?” 

Bucky shrugged as he drank.  “Could be worse. Your ma has the patience of a saint, ya know?”

Steve chuckled,  “I’ve tested that patience once or twice.”  He took a step back, trying not to watch as Bucky ran his fingers restlessly up and down the side of the glass.  “Uh, I’m making some eggs for dinner. You want some?” 

“Nah. ‘M not feeling well.”   That reminded Steve, and he slid the bottle from his pocket. 

“Oh, I ran into Miz O’Meara on the way home.  Got you more of this.”   

Bucky took the bottle cautiously, as if it were volatile.   “Thanks, pal.  She say anything?” 

“Just that she heard your step-dad tossed you out and you were staying with us.  She wished you well.”  

“Was that all?”  Bucky’s question had a wary tone to it that Steve didn’t understand. 

Reluctant to mention the compliment she had paid him, Steve simply answered, “Pretty much, She seemed busy -- think she was making cider or something.” 

Bucky let out a short huff of laughter, but didn’t explain the joke, instead  stretching and yawning.  “I’m gonna take a dose of this and try to get some more sleep.” 

Over dinner, Sarah told Steve that she was going to be working a double shift.  “They’ve set aside a room for us to catch catnaps in, so don’t expect to see me before tomorrow night at the earliest.   You and James take care of each other while I’m gone.” 

Steve stayed up later than he should have, seriously giving thought to sleeping on the couch.  But Bucky was out like a light  when Steve checked in on him, so he thought it was safe.    He dropped off to sleep more quickly than normal himself, but soon found himself dreaming of Bucky’s warm, strong body pressing close to him, his breath ghosting across Steve’s skin.

It wasn’t a dream. Bucky had crawled into his bed., despite it being barely wide enough to fit two people.  Steve startled, wondering how his fantasy had somehow turned real. “Bucky, what’re you doing?” 

“I need ...  I need this,” Bucky stuttered. Caught in a sliver of light from the streetlamp, his eyes shone with intensity, pupils wide.  “Just let me get next to you, champ. Only for a little bit, I promise.”  His quiet plea nearly broke Steve’s heart. 

“Okay, Buck.” Steve responded, as if calming a stray animal.  He prayed that Bucky couldn’t hear how his pulse raced, even as he stretched his arm out under his friend’s head.  “I’m here for you.”   They lay together quietly, Steve mentally reciting the major stats of the entire Brooklyn Dodgers roster to keep himself in check.  The sensible part of him was hoping against hope  for Bucky to fall asleep deeply enough so Steve could wriggle out from under him and go sleep on the sofa. He’d make up some suitable excuse in the morning. 

But the sensible side wasn’t in charge tonight, not with Bucky’s scent filling the room.  Steve knew what Bucky needed, and even though he’d be only a pale imitation, he was willing to do whatever it took to provide his friend relief. He was gathering his courage to make a move when Bucky broke the silence. 

“Put your arms around me, Stevie. Hold me tight, like you mean it.”  The desperation in Bucky’s voice was barely held in check.   “Kiss me, if you can.  Pretend I’m a dame, if it makes it easier. I don’t mind.”  

“I don’t gotta pretend, Buck.  Been wantin’ this for a long time. ” Steve’s words tumbled out in a near-growl, and Bucky sighed softly as their lips touched, his entire body relaxing.   It wasn’t really Steve’s first kiss; he’d played spin the bottle before, been given a few perfunctory good-night pecks,  but this was the first kiss that meant something.  That meant everything.  

Steve expected Bucky to take control -- he certainly had much more experience -- but he seemed content to follow Steve’s lead.  Gaining confidence, Steve gently probed at Bucky’s lips with his tongue and Bucky opened his mouth eagerly. Emboldened, he curved his hand around to cradle Bucky’s head, unintentionally stroking his hot and swollen omega gland. Bucky leaned in to the touch, murmuring, “Yes, Alpha, more.” He twisted around so that Steve was suddenly on top, Bucky’s legs spread open beneath him.  

“Bucky, stop, wait,”  Steve stammered out, pulling away from the embrace and scrambling to his knees.   He hadn’t meant to touch Bucky there, nor had he thought he’d get that kind of reaction. If Bucky was so far gone he thought Steve was an alpha, then this was all wrong, no matter how good it felt.  

“I’m sick of waiting,” Bucky shot back, pushing himself to a sitting position.  “I been sweet on you since before this whole mess started, Steve. I just didn’t wanna admit it. And now I can’t help it.”    Bucky’s confession shook Steve to the core as he still struggled to understand what was happening. 

“What do you mean?  What about Dot, and the other girls?”  

“Call me greedy,”  Bucky replied, with a wry smile.  “Dot and them were great -- they’re pretty, soft and they smell nice -- but they weren’t what I really wanted, or needed.  Not like you.”    Bucky reached out to stroke Steve’s cheek, but he turned his face away. 

“I ain’t no alpha, Buck. Just look at me.”   

“Can’t judge a book by its cover, champ.”   Bucky took hold of Steve’s chin, gently but firmly coaxing him back to meet his eyes.  “I been lookin’ at you for years, Steve.  Know what I see?  A guy who stands up for what he believes in, even if he gets knocked down for it.  Someone who’s smart, brave and kind, always doing for others.  Sure sounds like an alpha to me.”    Steve felt his cheeks heating at the praise, wanting to believe what Bucky was saying if it meant they could be together.  

“Besides,”  Bucky continued, inhaling deeply through his nose, “you smell so goddamned good, sweetheart.  Like a walk through Central Park right after they cut the grass.”   

“But what does that really mean?  Don’t all omegas give off scents?” 

“Yeah, but they don’t smell right to each other.  Neither do alphas.   That’s why you thought Miz O’Meara was making cider; she smells like apple pie to me.”   Bucky grinned a little before continuing.  “Jesus, but you’re stubborn, Steve. Always gotta know the whys and the wherefores.  Trust me - I know what I want.”   

 When Bucky leaned forward to kiss him, fierce and demanding, Steve couldn’t help but respond in kind, equally insistent. Maybe Bucky was right, somehow.  It would explain why he’d been feeling better, healthier over the past several months -- his body had been changing as best it could to fulfill his destiny. 

 “You know, there’s one way to prove for sure you’re an alpha,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s lips, his eyes still closed. When Steve realized that Bucky was referring to knotting, a wave of lust washed over him. 

 “Is that what you want?”  Steve whispered back, and Bucky’s breath hitched as he swallowed.

 “Mebbe not just yet,” he admitted, “but soon.  I  don’t wanna go thru this again alone, Steve.”

 “You won’t be alone, Buck. Not ever again.  I’m with you til the end of the line.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about time our boys get together, isn't it? Needless to say, next week's installment is going to crank the rating of this fic to Explicit...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's still not quite sure whether this is all a dream, but makes a start in giving his omega what he needs; Bucky returns the favor with interest. In the morning, they make love for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much just smut and feels. Mind the tags and proceed accordingly.

Steve wondered if he should pinch himself, make sure he wasn’t simply dreaming that Bucky was head over heels in love, too. And then the whole alpha thing just seemed beyond belief. But before he had a chance to ponder any further, Bucky said “C’mere, punk,” and pulled him back down to the bed. 

Their kisses turned passionate; Steve felt the touch of Bucky’s teeth on his lips, and he in turn dipped down to nip at Bucky’s jawline and neck. Bucky ran his hands through Steve’s hair as he arched into the contact. Pressing so close together, out of necessity as well as need, their mutual arousal was all too obvious. There was no turning back now. 

As they continued, Bucky started unconsciously rutting against Steve’s leg. To keep him from rubbing himself raw, Steve broke from the kiss and changed position so he was lying next to Bucky instead of on top of him. Running a hand up his bedmate’s thigh and under his nightshirt, Steve’s fingertips brushed against Bucky’s hot, hard length. 

The gasp of pleasure it wrung from him gave Steve the courage to curl his fingers around Bucky’s cock and squeeze gently. It was slightly thicker and heavier than his own, if maybe not quite as long, but it felt perfect in his hand. He let go for a moment to spit in his palm, not wanting to irritate the tender skin further. 

Steve stroked Bucky like he would himself, varying the speed and pressure. He seemed to be doing something right, as Bucky’s stifled moans and gasps of pleasure were music to Steve’s ears. Losing himself in the sensation, Steve almost didn’t hear Bucky’s soft request. “I need more, Stevie. I need you to touch me.” His face flushed and there was embarrassment in his voice. “Back further, inside. Don’t think I c’n come without it.” 

Steve’s heart pounded as he understood the request. Despite feeling completely out of his depth, he replied, “Okay, roll over on your side, sweetheart.” Bucky did so, pulling his knees up slightly for better access. Laying behind his omega, Steve reached around to continue stroking Bucky’s cock, but with his other hand, he traced his fingers down Bucky’s back and into his cleft. 

When he started to push a finger in, Bucky flinched and said “Hold on, darlin’. You gotta rub at it a little first, let things loosen up.” Steve apologized, then did as Bucky had suggested, feeling the tight, furled muscle relax and release a bit of slickness. The next time Steve tried, his finger slid in easily, and Bucky moaned in response. “In ‘n out, a little deeper each time.” 

Steve was breathing hard, the tight, wet hotness of Bucky’s body making him rock hard, but he did his best to stay focused on his omega’s needs. When Bucky begged for more, the word “Alpha” falling from his lips, Steve pushed back the wild, desperate impulse to grab his own cock and thrust it deep into Bucky; give them both what their bodies were clearly aching for. But Bucky had said he wasn’t ready for that, not yet. And Steve refused to take what had not been clearly and freely given. 

So Steve slid another finger inside instead; and with a few more strokes, that was enough to send Bucky over the edge, clenching around Steve as he came. Steve cupped his hand around Bucky’s cock to catch what he could, then slowly withdrew once he was done. He quickly wiped his hands on his nightshirt, then wrapped his arms around Bucky, who was shivering from the aftershocks. 

“You okay, Buck?” 

Bucky twisted back around to face him. “That was....” and with a fierce, fiery kiss, proved to Steve just how okay he was. He slid one hand down between them and wrapped it around Steve’s hard, needy cock. Steve gasped at the feel of Bucky’s wide, warm palm, the rough calluses sending sparks of pleasure through him. Bucky chuckled quietly, “Wasn’t about to leave you hangin’.” He squeezed and took a few quick strokes, then suddenly Bucky shifted position, and something soft and moist pressed briefly against the tip of Steve’s dick. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, were those Bucky’s lips? 

“Buck, what are you doing?” Steve asked, disbelief and desire mingling in his voice as the heat of Bucky’s breath stirred the hair on his thighs. 

“The best I can.” Bucky still held the base of Steve’s shaft in his hand, but it was his tongue that slowly drew a line up one side then circled the tip. Steve moaned helplessly as Bucky’s lips wrapped around him and began to move downwards. He gasped and flinched as the edge of Bucky’s teeth grazed against sensitive skin. Bucky pulled back. “Oh, sorry.” 

“S’ok.” It hadn’t hurt, or at least not in a bad way, but it had surprised him. “Please, sweetheart, don’t stop.” 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” And with a sinful grin, Bucky returned to his task.

Steve clutched handfuls of the bedding, overwhelmed by the sensation of Bucky’s hot, wet tongue and lips caressing and engulfing his dick. Within moments, he found himself on the brink of release. “Wait, stop, ‘m gonna...” 

Bucky’s hum of acknowledgement, combined with a quick downward slide, swallowing him completely, pushed Steve over the edge. He barely had time to grab a pillow to muffle his outburst, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of pleasure. By the time he could think again, Bucky was already back by his side, head resting on Steve’s bony shoulder. 

“How was--” Steve interrupted Bucky’s question with an exhilarated kiss. The taste of bitter, salty musk was still on Bucky’s tongue, and Steve pulled back. 

“Bucky, you didn’t....” 

“What else was I gonna do with it, punk?” The matter-of-factness in Bucky’s reply made Steve laugh a little, and before he could help himself, the words just slipped out. 

“I love you, Bucky.” Steve held his breath, but the warmth and contentment shining from Bucky’s eyes reassured him even before he replied. 

“I love you too, Steve.” 

 

Steve woke slowly the next morning, a warm weight pressing against his side. 

“You awake?” Bucky’s voice was morning-rough and it sent pleasant prickles up Steve’s spine. 

“Yeah, mostly.” 

“When’s your Ma due back from the hospital?” 

“She’s working a double shift. Won’t be home til this evening.” At Steve’s response, Bucky relaxed a little, but there was still tenseness in his manner as he asked another question. 

“Are you okay with ... last night?” 

“Sweetheart, I am so much more than ‘okay’,” Steve replied, leaning over to press his lips against Bucky’s. He’d intended his kiss to be more reassuring than anything else, but Bucky’s enthusiastic response sent fire racing through Steve’s veins. There was a sense of purpose to Bucky’s kisses and caresses, and Steve wasn’t going to complain, instead giving as good as he was getting. They explored each others’ bodies in an increasingly intense exchange of pleasure. 

After a particularly passionate kiss, Bucky murmured “I’m ready, Steve. Want to feel all of you, deep inside.” There was a gleam of anticipation in his eyes, but a touch of uneasiness as well. 

“But, Buck,” Steve stalled, feeling his own mix of desire and trepidation as he sat back up, “You know I’ve never even...” 

“Yeah, I do. And if that means you don’t want to, or you can’t, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not that at all, Buck. I’m afraid I want to too much. I mean, last night, I was so close to just... taking you.” Steve’s cheeks flushed with shame at the memory of how badly he’d wanted to have his way with his omega. 

“But you didn’t,” came Bucky’s reply. “And that’s one of the many things I love about you, darlin’. Your sense of what’s right, your willingness to put others first.” Bucky took hold of Steve’s hands. “I promise, Stevie, I woulda wanted to be with you even we weren’t what we are. But you are an alpha. My alpha. And I’m your omega.” The determination and the desire in his voice dissolved the last of Steve’s concerns and self-doubt. 

“Yes. You are mine,” Steve replied with more than a touch of possessiveness. “Let me see all of you, sweetheart.” Bucky quickly skinned out of his nightshirt, and Steve took a moment to appreciate the nude figure laid out in front of him, that summer tan not quite faded, a dusting of hair across his chest. Bucky smiled back up at him, and plucked at Steve’s shirt. 

“How’s about you ditch yours too? Wanna feel your skin on mine.” Steve pulled his shirt over his head and returned to their embrace; the intimate contact was intoxicating. After a few more heated kisses, Steve trailed his mouth down Bucky’s body, tasting and teasing down his neck and chest, across his stomach, finally dipping down to sample his omega’s throbbing cock. Bucky gasped in surprise at the touch of Steve’s lips; hands flying up to his mouth to stifle the moans his alpha was wringing from him. 

Settling between Bucky’s legs, Steve ran one hand all the way up his lover’s thigh. Stroking Bucky’s entrance lightly, Steve found it was both looser and slicker than before; a clear signal that his omega was in full heat. He slid one finger in with no resistance, quickly followed by a second. Bucky writhed in pleasure, pushing back against Steve’s hand. “Yes, god, yes. Try ‘nother one.” 

And then three of Steve’s fingers were sliding in and out, twisting and probing, as he kissed and licked Bucky’s cock. When he accidentally prodded harder than he’d intended, Bucky’s strangled cry stopped him in his tracks. “No, Stevie,” Bucky panted. “ ‘S good. Do it again.” He did, and the sound Bucky made went straight to Steve’s achingly hard cock; making him desperately rut against the bedsheets. When Bucky finally said, “Need you, alpha. Need all of you,” Steve wanted nothing more than to satisfy their mutual need. 

He rose to a kneeling position and straddled one of Bucky’s legs, lifting the other to rest it on his shoulder. Slicking himself up with the hand he’d just been using to ready his omega, Steve aimed and pressed against Bucky, prompting a flinch, and a murmured “Gentle, darlin’.” Mustering every bit of control he could, Steve carefully pushed in with shallow movements, going just a bit deeper each time as his beloved’s body slowly and sweetly yielded to him. 

Once they were nearly joined, Steve paused, unsure what to do next. Bucky kicked his heel against Steve’s back, using his calf to force them closer. The abrupt motion startled a groan of desire out of Steve as he drove deep into Bucky’s body. “Finally -- I was starting to wonder whether you were havin’ a good time up there or not, champ.” Bucky’s eyes sparkled with both humor and lust, and Steve fell even more in love with him. 

“I’m not used to having an audience listenin' in.” Bucky laughed a little at Steve’s reply, and the nervous tension they’d both been feeling suddenly melted away. This was destiny, the two of them together, loving one another. Steve leaned forward, needing to feel as much of his omega’s body against him as possible. That shift in position must have pushed him against the same spot he’d stroked with his fingers just a moment ago, as Bucky made a muffled yelp of pleasure in response. 

“Is that what you need, sweetheart? Need me filling you up, nice and deep?” Steve blushed furiously at his own words, but Bucky’s answering moan of “yes, Alpha,” along with the throbbing of his cock pressed tightly between them, only fanned the flames of desire. Snapping his hips in a steady rhythm, Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck to pull them closer still, fingers firmly pressing on his gland. “Let yourself go, dearest. Come for me, omega.” 

Bucky keened, his body clenching around Steve as the warmth of his release spilled between them. Suddenly pushed over the edge himself, Steve made one final deep thrust and came harder than he ever had before, sparks flickering at the edge of his vision. He bit down on a shout, nearly drawing blood. 

Gathering his senses, Steve realized instead of going soft, his cock was swelling yet again. This must be his knot forming, but instead of at the tip as he’d assumed, it was the base that was rapidly thickening. He was still inside Bucky, who had tensed up and was panting harshly. 

“Buck, sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“It hurts,” he stammered out from between clenched teeth, letting out a pained gasp when Steve tried to pull out. “Just... gimme a minute. I can do this.” 

Ashamed at how good it felt to have his omega sheathed so tightly around him, Steve held Bucky close, and gently stroked the back of his head and neck, whispering reassurances. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. Can’t believe how lucky I am to have you. We’re almost there, just a little bit more.” 

Bucky gradually relaxed, and with a sigh of relief, murmured, “Okay, that’s better.” He took a deep breath, and with a lazy smile, added. “Much better. Wanna get a little more comfortable?” 

“Yeah, if you think we can.” Despite the afterglow, Steve’s knees were starting to ache. After some cautious negotiations, they found a position that let Steve stretch his legs out a little. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, listening to his omega’s heart beat. “How much longer are we gonna be like this?” he asked. 

“Five, maybe ten minutes, according to Miz O’Meara. Why, you got a hot date or something?” 

“Yeah. But he ain’t goin’ anywhere either, I suppose,” Steve replied, pulling Bucky in for yet another kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a visit by Sarah, Bucky and Steve start something they can't quite finish in his rented room. So they return to the Rogers' apartment and commit to one another with a dual bond.

Steve took a moment to bask in the warmth of the small, shabby lobby before heading upstairs. This winter hadn’t been as awful as in previous years, but he still hated the snow and the cold. Just as he was about to knock on the door of Bucky’s rented room, he heard his mother’s voice coming from the other side and felt a sharp sense of deja vu. 

“Make sure you’re using these every time you and Steven are intimate,” she said in that familiar, matter-of-fact tone. “Don’t trust Mrs. O’Meara’s potions, they’re fine for simple things, but not for this. I can get you more prophylactics when you need them, and I’ll remind Steven as well. You both need to be smart about this, James, and not let your physical urges run away with you like before. ” 

Steve stepped back from the door as the warmth of his embarrassment crept up from the edge of his scarf over his chilled cheeks. He knew she was right, that he and Bucky hadn’t taken proper care at the beginning, and had gotten lucky. But to have his own mother so involve herself in their private life again was absolutely mortifying. He ducked into the communal bathroom, and waited for her to pass by. 

“I am so sorry, Buck,” Steve said a few minutes later, stepping into the room. It was small, but well-organized, with a table and two chairs along one wall, some shelves and the bed pushed up along the far wall, under the window. The radiator was running full blast, keeping it cozy. “Ma means well, of course, but she doesn’t have a lot of tact.” Bucky, still looking a little flushed from Mrs. Rogers’ frank conversation, nodded with a wry smile. 

“That’s kinda the pot calling the kettle black, ain’t it, champ?” he teased. “S’not like you’re the picture of subtlety.” Bucky had a point; Steve very rarely let his feelings about anything remain unsaid; it was one of the many reasons he struggled with the forbidden nature of their love. 

After making sure the door was closed tightly, Bucky came over and put his arms around Steve. “Gimme some sugar, sugar.” Despite being an alpha, Steve never had any problems with Bucky initiating physical intimacy, the stereotypes meant very little to them. Inhaling his omega’s scent, Steve deepened the kiss into something that took both their breaths away. The calendar hadn’t lied; Bucky’s time was close at hand once again.

They’d coupled twice more during his last cycle, and had tried a few times since then, with considerably less success -- neither spit nor vaseline made a suitable substitute for an omega’s natural slick. So they’d found other ways to slake their passion for one another, both here, in Bucky’s new quarters as well as in Steve’s apartment, when his mother was away. But they’d both missed the intimacy and connection of truly making love with one another, and Steve ached for it, body and soul. 

They ended up tangled on Bucky’s bed, clothing pulled askew and breathing hard before Bucky broke things off. “Not here, Stevie. I wanna fall asleep with you afterwards, and the neighbors are nosy enough as is.” With a frustrated sigh of agreement, Steve sat back up. 

“Your ma mentioned she’s working another double shift,” Bucky added, reaching out and placing his hand on Steve’s thigh. “How about we head over to your place instead?” 

“Don’t know if I can keep my hands off you for that long, sweetheart.” They both chafed at the fact that they had to keep their relationship a secret. While their neighbors were used to seeing the Rogers and Barnes boys being thick as thieves, it was expected that they would be growing apart as they reached adulthood and developed other interests. 

So Bucky still stepped out with the young women of his acquaintance on a semi-regular basis, dragging Steve along on the occasional double-date as they both pretended interest in the girls. It was like walking a tightrope, maintaining the outwardly appearance of their casual camaraderie, while wanting nothing more than to be with each other instead. 

“How about I promise to make it up to you later, darlin?” And there was that absolutely sinful smirk that Steve treasured. He’d finally showed Bucky the sketch he’d made in the library months before, and was gratified by his response. It took a lot to make James Buchanan Barnes blush, but Steve had managed it with that drawing, now stored away safely at the bottom of Bucky’s dresser drawer. 

“Grab your things and let’s get going, then.” 

The overcast winter sky did little to fend off the oncoming, early twilight; the streetlights were already aglow. Most passersby kept their heads down, looking up only at intersections. The two of them didn’t have far to travel as the boarding house was only a few blocks from their old neighborhood. But the unwelcome possibility of running into Mr. Barnes or his cronies meant Steve and Bucky kept moving, and kept their distance from one another. 

Boots and coats were shed as soon as they were in the apartment, and while Bucky joked that they might as well keep going, Steve insisted they have dinner first. His mother had left a pot of cabbage stew on the stove, covered and still hot. With a couple of slices of bread and butter, that made for a meal. Feet tangled under the table, they ate quickly, eager to satisfy a different appetite.

After putting their dishes in the sink, Bucky came up behind Steve, pulling him close to bury his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck. Inhaling deeply, he murmured, “You smell so good, darlin’.” Bucky nipped lightly at the sliver of Steve’s collarbone on display, and it sent a thrill up and down Steve’s spine. He’d come to crave the feel of Bucky’s teeth on his skin; the sharp sting blotting out the underlying aches and pains that he’d grown all too used to. 

Steve twisted around to face his omega. “Thought I was supposed to be the one to do that,” he teased. Despite their lovemaking during Bucky’s previous cycle, they hadn’t yet taken the final step in committing to their relationship; Steve biting into Bucky’s omega gland to bond them together. Neither of them had wanted an act performed in a moment of passion to be something they might later regret. Nevertheless, Steve knew he couldn’t imagine a future without Bucky by his side, and they’d had a few discussions that touched on the topic. 

“S’not fair, you know,” Bucky muttered, still nuzzling Steve’s neck. 

“What’s that, Buck?” 

“That when we bond, you get to mark me as yours.” Steve’s heart soared at Bucky’s use of ‘when’, his certainty that they belonged together, no matter what society might think. 

“Nothing stopping you from doing the same,” Steve replied, his pulse racing at the thought. 

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. “Really, Steve?” 

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” 

“How about you gimme some more of that sugar you were spoonin’ out earlier?” Bucky replied, sliding his hands up under Steve’s sweater and along his ribs to rub his thumbs over his nipples. Steve twitched and squirmed; Bucky’s fingers were still cold from having been outside, but they left fiery trails on his skin. He repaid the favor with equally chilly hands, reaching around to slide them down the back of Bucky’s pants; silencing any possible complaint by sealing his lips over those of his lover. 

Bucky pushed back into his hands, and what Steve had intended as just a bit of grabass became an exploration of just how ready his omega was. He ran the tip of a finger across Bucky’s entrance, feeling a bit of slick ooze out even as Bucky moaned into his mouth. Steve rubbed up and down for a few moments, before pressing in. He couldn’t get very deep from this angle, but it didn’t matter; Bucky’s needy whine and stiff cock rutting against his hip told Steve just how crazy he was driving his omega. 

Steve rocked his finger in and out until the slick was practically dripping into his palm. Spreading Bucky’s cheeks apart with his other hand, Steve dipped two more fingers in, pulling gently at the rim and scissoring them back and forth even as he thrust his tongue deep into Bucky’s willing mouth. His omega was giving as good as he got, however, teasing Steve’s nipples until they were peaked and aching. 

Unable to take any more, Bucky backed Steve over to the sofa, pushing him down, then straddling his thighs. “I wanna ride ya, darlin’. Just like the dames do in the Tijuana bibles. Unless you wanna bend me over the table instead.” Steve’s mouth went dry at the thought, but no, he wanted to see Bucky’s face, watch his eyes glaze over in the heat of the moment, his lips part in a sensual moan as he reached his climax. 

Steve didn’t hesitate, pulling Bucky’s sweater over his head, then removing his own; undershirts nearly torn off in their eagerness for skin on skin contact. Steve had the presence of mind to grab a towel from the bathroom to put on the sofa as they finished undressing. 

“Shit, almost forgot.” Bucky went to dig in his bag, bringing out a small cardboard box. “Better put one of these on, Stevie.” Steve felt his face heat up, but Bucky was right -- better safe than sorry. He unrolled the condom over his stiff, aching cock, the rubber feeling cold and clammy, and sat back down. 

“Ready when you are, Buck.” Steve felt almost as nervous as he had for their first time. They hadn’t bothered to turn off the light, so there was no hiding; every single expression, every thought bare to the other’s gaze. Steve relished the naked hunger on Bucky’s face as he kneeled astride Steve’s lap, reaching behind himself to line the two of them up. Bucky’s thighs trembled as he lowered himself down, inch by slow inch onto Steve’s cock. To help steady his omega -- both physically and emotionally -- Steve put his hands on on Bucky’s hips, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. 

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart, taking me in so nice and easy, so hot, so tight,” Steve couldn’t believe the words falling from his lips, but Bucky was drinking them in, eyes aglow with wonder and passion. The rubber made it easier to keep from coming too soon, but Steve still had to concentrate, wanting to make it as good for Bucky as he possibly could. 

With a final moan, Bucky sank down the last little bit, and Steve was fully engulfed by his omega. Bucky leaned down to kiss Steve, fierce and demanding, then rolled his hips. Steve answered with a shallow thrust, and they soon found their rhythm. Steve reached between them to stroke his lover’s cock, hot and heavy in his hand. Bucky held onto Steve’s shoulders for leverage, then buried his face in Steve’s neck. “I’m so close, alpha. I need it harder, deeper,” he begged. 

Steve did his best to oblige, knowing he wouldn’t be far behind. He ran his free hand through Bucky’s sweat-damp hair, pressing down firmly on the back of his omega’s neck. Bucky’s grip tightened, and Steve felt a sharp pain blossom on his collarbone, an exquisite counterpoint to Bucky clenching around his cock and spilling into Steve’s hand. 

Steve slowed his thrusts, easing Bucky through the remnants of his intense orgasm. Bucky raised his head slowly, shock slowly spreading across his face once he realized what he’d done. “Oh god, Steve, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered in a horrified tone, but Steve kissed him softly, ignoring the taste of his own blood. 

“Like you said, seems only fair. Are you ready, Buck?” Bowing his head in reply, Bucky exposed his omega gland. As he reached his own climax, Steve bit down, releasing a salty-sweet liquid that tasted just like Bucky’s scent. Bucky’s groan of pleasure reverberated through them both, and he leaned bonelessly into Steve; his whimpers more pleasure than pain as Steve’s alpha knot swelled to lock them together.

“You’re mine now, dearest,” Steve murmured, holding Bucky close, rubbing his back soothingly. “Always and forever. Never gonna let you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally where this fic was supposed to end; but my beta, @hddnone (aka Marvelous Menagerie) talked me into taking it further along in the timeline. Drama and a bit of angst are on the way, so if you need a happy ending, you might want to stop here.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes behind enemy lines to rescue his omega, confronting his nemesis along the way. He finds himself the de facto leader of a group of ex-prisoners who depend on him to get them to safety.

Steve could scarcely hear the bursts of gunfire and random explosions over the sound of his own beating heart. He stood in the doorway, shock and relief flooding his system at seeing a familiar figure lying on a table; hearing the voice he knew so well mumbling a sequence of numbers. 

Steve dashed across the room to stand by his omega’s side. “Bucky... oh my god.” Beaten, starved, and strapped down for god knows what purpose; Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes had been left to die in the chaos. Steve’s overwhelming sense of gratitude at finding Bucky alive was shot through with anger and guilt. How had he let this happen to the man he’d sworn to protect, to keep safe? 

As he tore through the bindings like they were wet paper, the buckles and bolts flying across the room, Steve vowed he would hunt down everyone who had laid a hand on his bondmate. He would make them pay a hundred times over. Bucky’s glassy-eyed stare slowly cleared and he weakly murmured, “Is, is that...” 

“It’s me. It’s Steve.” 

“Steve.” Bucky’s face lit up in wonder and astonishment as he reached out towards his alpha, resting his hand for a moment on Steve’s collarbone, where he’d left his mark. Even through the uniform, Steve could feel the heat of his touch, and despite knowing that that any delay only put them further in danger, he placed a gentle kiss on his omega’s dry, cracked lips. They had a lot to talk about, once they got out of here. 

“Come on.” Steve carefully lifted Bucky from the table, helping him to his feet. “I thought you were dead.” Now that he had indisputable proof that Bucky was alive, Steve could finally admit what had been his deepest fear. 

“I thought you were smaller,” Bucky replied dazedly, looking up at him. “What happened to you?” 

“I joined the army,” Steve tersely replied, committing the map and diagrams on the wall to memory. He’d explain everything, but they had to get moving. He led his omega towards the door, supporting him on one side. 

“Did it hurt?” Bucky just wouldn’t let it be; and Steve could hardly blame him. Maybe he thought he was hallucinating, still strapped to the table. 

“A little.” It wasn’t quite a lie. 

“Is it permanent?” 

“So far.” They had more important things to focus on, like getting out of there with their hides intact. Finding what seemed like every avenue of escape blocked, Steve led the way up a set of stairs, hoping to gain access to the roof and therefore reach safety. 

The last thing Steve expected was to hear a cheerful voice speaking English, calling out from the other side of the catwalk. It came from an imposing, black-clad man walking toward him. Once he mentioned Erskine, Steve knew who he had to be: Johann Schmidt. 

Finally landing a punch on an actual Nazi was incredibly satisfying. But Schmidt took the punch well and reacted swiftly; Steve barely brought his shield up in time, gaping at the dent the other man’s knuckles left in the steel. Nevertheless, Steve readied himself for a fight; this wasn’t the first bully he’d faced. 

When the catwalk started to retract, Steve would have flung himself across the gap at Schmidt if it hadn’t been for Bucky. He had to keep his omega safe, get him out of here. Steve realized that Bucky hadn’t spoken a word since they’d run into the other two men; instead staring with undisguised fear and loathing at Schmidt’s companion, the little man Steve had seen fleeing from the lab where he’d found Bucky. 

Schmidt continued his tirade, tearing at himself in his frenzy. Steve realized to his horror that the man had been wearing a mask over his disfigured face. Now the the true corruption of the Nazi’s soul was clearly on display. And Schmidt seemed proud of it, as if it were a badge of honor. 

“You don’t have one of those, do you?” Steve hoped Bucky was just joking, that he didn’t truly think his alpha had become a monster, or that he himself had plunged into madness. Steve reached back to place his hand on Bucky’s; the only comfort he could offer at the moment. Schmidt finished his grand, empty speech as the elevator’s door closed. Their enemy now out of reach, Steve and Bucky had no choice but simply to try to save themselves. 

 

“No! Not without you!” He could barely hear Bucky’s defiant cry over the explosions, the creak of metal and other sounds of destruction. Stupid, stubborn omega. 

Steve took a deep breath, judging the distance. It had seemed bad enough when there was only a narrow beam between the two catwalks, but now it was nothing but empty space. They’d tested him after the serum: for strength, for speed, for agility. But not for anything like this. He bent the broken railing out of the way, backed up as far as he could, and with the briefest of prayers, ran and jumped. 

Hitting the other side hard, Steve desperately looped one arm around the top rail. Bucky was already there, tugging at his jacket to pull him to safety. Steve held the shield over their heads as they ran towards the door that led out onto the roof, finding a ladder that took them back to ground level. 

“Sarge, is that you?” One of the men Steve had freed earlier, the one with the bowler hat, ran towards them. Wielding one of the blue glowing guns, he stopped in his tracks to aim over their shoulders and fire; its electric report mingled with a cut-off scream. “Wahoo! I love this gun! Let’s get the hell out of Dodge, boys!” 

As best as Steve could tell, the factory appeared to have been deliberately destroyed, and the resulting carnage of both its destruction and the revenge the prisoners had taken on their captors made his gorge rise. But this was only a small facet of the war, and not even the worst of it. He’d taken lives for the first time today; there was no going back from it. But he was a soldier now, and by acting as one, had been able to rescue not only Bucky, but a great deal of other men besides. 

One of said men, who Bucky addressed as Dum-Dum, led them towards the edge of the compound. The prisoners had commandeered one of the mini-tanks, firing after the few remaining Germans who were now in full retreat. As they ran down the road towards the other men, Steve reached in his pocket and pulled out the transponder, destroyed by a bullet he hadn’t even felt the impact of. “Dammit.” 

Bucky glanced over, then stopped in his tracks. “What, Steve? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This - not so much,” he replied, holding up the ruined gadget. ”I was supposed to use it to call for backup.” 

Dum-Dum looked at him in astonishment. “A solo rescue mission? You crazy son-of-a-bitch.” 

Once they joined the survivors, Steve found himself the center of attention, standing out like a sore thumb amid the men in their worn and filthy uniforms. Taking in the star on his chest and the shield he still wore on one arm., someone called out, “What costume party did you come from, champ?” 

“Don’tcha know Captain America when you see him?” Bucky shot back. “He’s the reason for all this,” and he gestured towards the destroyed factory, still in flames behind them. Dum-Dum and a few of the other men Steve recognized from the prison cells cheered in agreement.

Steve held out his hands. “Before you get too excited, fellas.... I came here alone and don’t have a way of getting back in touch anymore. We gotta get ourselves back home.” The crowd rumbled in disappointment. 

“ And how far must we travel before we see a friendly face, Captain?” The question was asked in a crisp British accent, coming from one of the prisoners Steve had first encountered. 

“About thirty miles, south by southwest.” Steve admitted, guessing that it would take them at least three, possibly four days to cover the distance. 

“Well, then, we better raid the mess and the infirmary before we get on the road,” Dum-Dum suggested. “If they haven’t been blown to smithereens too, that is. Jonesy, you’re with me.” He gestured to the colored soldier that had been in the cell with him, and the two of them gathered up about a dozen men for the sortie. 

The fires were waning, but a full moon was out, giving enough light for Steve to see just how many prisoners there had been, and to realize the enormity of the task he’d taken on. These men would be looking to him to get them through enemy territory and back to base. They had no way of knowing if any kind of alarm had been raised, if the Germans would be out looking for whoever blew up the factory. “Any officers here?” Steve asked. He needed all the help he could get. 

Several men stepped forward, including the British prisoner. “Major James Montgomery Falsworth, reporting for duty.” By the time Dum-Dum and Jones got back with a meager store of supplies, Steve had found a compass in the cartridge belt Peggy had swiped for him, and -- based on the brief glimpse of the map in Phillips’ tent as well as the men’s sketchy knowledge of the area -- planned out a route. 

Bucky had been busy as well; he and a couple of soldiers had hotwired a few undamaged troop transports. Once first aid had been rendered, the worst-wounded men were loaded into the trucks, and they set out with the mini-tank in the lead. 

They traveled til daybreak, then drove the vehicles into the woods at the side of the road for cover. After a meager meal, the men settled in as best they could to catch a little shut-eye. Steve took the first watch, finding a sheltered spot near the road. He’d only been there a few minutes when he heard a tell-tale rustling behind him. 

Steve turned to see Bucky, standing there. “Hey,” he called out softly. 

“Hey, yourself,” Bucky replied, as he walked over. He was limping slightly, footsore like the rest of them and shivering a little. Without a second thought, Steve took off his leather jacket and placed it on his omega’s shoulders. 

Bucky pulled the jacket tightly around himself, burying his face in the collar for a moment before saying with a shaky laugh, “So, it really is you, Stevie.” 

“Yeah, Buck.” Steve had wondered, had worried about this moment ever since his transformation. He hadn’t been allowed to say anything about it to anyone outside the project. He didn’t even know if Bucky had gotten the few, brief letters he’d written while on the tour

“You know, we saw a coupla newsreels featuring Captain America, but he was always wearing that mask. And in the radio spots, he sounded a bit like you, but I dunno, more like an actor or something.” 

“Yeah, I got some vocal coaching, tryin’ to get me to drop my accent.”

“What did they do to you?” Bucky made it sound like something had gone wrong, like Steve was somehow worse off than before. “What Schmidt said, was it true?” 

“Bucky, you remember how hard it was for me, when you got drafted and I kept getting rejected.” They’d argued back and forth for days; Steve flushed with shame at the memory of his mostly-empty threat to reveal Bucky’s status to the Draft Board. “So when Erskine told me I had a chance to get healthy, to join the fight, come over here and in at least some small way help keep my omega safe, how could I say no?” 

“Am I still your omega, Steve?” Bucky asked, uncertainty in his voice. 

“What? Of course you are, dearest. Why would you even ask?” Steve pulled Bucky close, easy to do now with this new body. But instead of returning the embrace, Bucky remained tense and unsettled. 

“Because,” Bucky touched the spot where the collar of Steve’s uniform had torn, the spot where the mark he’d left at their first bonding should have been. “It’s gone.” Those two words took Steve right back to the moment when he’d first seen himself in the mirror and made the same discovery. 

“The serum,” Steve tried to explain, “it healed every scar I had. Look,” he pushed back his bangs and pointed to his hairline, “remember when Billy Jackson threw a rock and it hit me right here? And when I fell off the fire escape, the scar on my leg? Faded clean away.” But he’d been glad to see those scars gone, glad to be able to take a deep breath whenever he wanted, to stand straight and tall. Steve had mourned the loss of the mark Bucky had given him, of course, but he knew the bond that they shared was more than skin deep. 

Nevertheless, the mark was important to Bucky and always had been. He’d made a point of touching and kissing it every time they’d been intimate, and Steve couldn’t forget that. “Listen, sweetheart, as soon as we can get some time together, you can mark me again. As many times as you want, til it sticks.” 

He felt Bucky finally relax against him, then glance up with a hint of that grin Steve loved so well. “You sure about that, champ? K rations ain’t worn down my teeth much.” 

Steve smiled in reply, dropping into a sultry murmur, “I told ya before, sugar... I kinda like it.” His kiss was considerably less gentle than before, but brief; they were much too exposed for either of their liking. He let Bucky go, gently pushing him back towards their bivouac. “Get some rest, pal. We still got a long ways to go.”

 

Steve had never been so happy to see a familiar-looking stretch of road in his life. They were on their third day of travel, footsore and out of food with the injured men only getting worse. Monty and the other officers, along with Bucky's former cellmates, had been a godsend; they kept the men organized and in good morale, and were more than willing to recognize him as their leader. 

There was Dum-Dum Dugan, who seemed to know just about everyone in their ragtag group. His bawdy storytelling made you forget your aching feet and hungry belly, at least for a little while. Gabe Jones, one of Bucky’s former cellmates, was their language specialist, translating not only the German vehicle gauges and food labels, but also communicating with the dozen or so French Resistance fighters who had been held captive as well. These men, led by Jacques Dernier, had experience living off the land, and were able to add some fresh meat to the food supplies. Jim Morita’s medic training also came in handy, providing some basic treatment to the wounded in their party. 

Because of the vehicles, they had to keep to the roads, little more than tracks through the deep, dark woods. They all lived in fear of coming up on a military convoy, but the way had been mercifully clear so far. Nonetheless, the men still scrambled for cover every time they heard a plane. Steve was usually the first to detect the drone of the engine overhead, but sometimes Bucky sent up the alarm first. Steve hadn’t realized just how sharp-eared his pal was; then again, he himself had been half-deaf before the serum. 

Realizing how close they were to safety, Steve called out, “We’re almost there, fellas! Let’s see if we can make it there in time for dinner!” 

Cresting a hill ten minutes later, they saw the base on the other side of a gentle valley, the American flag flying proud. Steve resisted the impulse to break into a run, instead motioning his friends to the front of the group. Bucky fell in on his left out of habit -- it had been the side Steve’s good ear was on -- and they held their heads high as they marched up the road to freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep - we jumped ahead right to the middle of CA:TFA.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Captain America being the hero of the hour, Steve uses his fame to bring his friends with him to London. Balancing the demands of the military and the Senator, Steve still makes time for his omega. However, the changes they've both gone through have an impact, as does the presence of Agent Peggy Carter.

Steve had expected to be clapped in irons and thrown in the brig -- or whatever the current military equivalent was -- as soon as he got back to camp. After all, he’d disobeyed orders, gone AWOL and put the lives of others (including a civilian vital to the Allied defenses) at risk. He’d said as much when he told Phillips he was surrendering himself for disciplinary action. 

Instead, the colonel simply replied, “That won’t be necessary,” and actually smiled at him; an expression Steve had never expected to see that craggy face make. He couldn’t help but wonder if his alpha status had something to do with his reception. Everyone involved in Project Rebirth knew by now, the blood tests had confirmed it. Stark had tried to claim it as part of the transformation, but Erskine’s notes confirmed Steve’s own words -- he had been an alpha all along.

When Peggy walked over, the blend of anger and relief in her expression made her incandescently beautiful. She looked up (God, that was going to take some getting used to, having so many people looking up to him now) and said. “You’re late.” 

Steve dug the remains of the transponder out of his jacket. “Couldn’t call my ride.” There was a small, half smile on her face and she moved closer, tilting her face up towards his.

He heard a yell: “Hey, let’s hear it for Captain America!” drawing everyone’s attention back to Steve as they cheered in response. Bucky shrugged and smirked at Steve’s raised eyebrow, even as he cut his eyes to Agent Carter. 

Steve had told Bucky about her during the march back to the camp. How Peggy was one of the only people -- besides Dr. Erskine, his mother and Bucky himself -- who had ever looked past his physical appearance to see who and what he really was. Steve told Bucky that she actually listened to him, even as he made a fool of himself trying to talk to her. Peggy believed in him and had put her career, her reputation, and even her life at risk to help him do what he needed to do. 

“Are ya sweet on her, Stevie?”

Steve’s first impulse was to respond no, of course not. But he couldn’t lie to his bondmate. “I dunno, Buck.” Bucky closed his eyes, as if to deny the answer, but Steve clasped Bucky’s arm, pulling his omega close to murmur quietly, “But I do know that you mean the world to me. I’d do anything to make you happy. And now that I found you again, I ain’t ever letting you go.” 

 

The actual introduction between the two of them went better than Steve had hoped. Once the cheering subsided, Steve said, “Agent Carter, I’d like you to meet Sergeant James Barnes. Bucky, this is Peggy Carter.” 

She held out her hand, heedless of Bucky's bedraggled appearance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant. I’m glad Steve was able to bring you and your fellow prisoners to safety.” 

He flicked an eye at her familiar use of Steve’s name, but responded, “Seems like he couldn’ta done it without your help, ma’am,” with a hint of his usual charm shining through. 

“Captain Rogers is a remarkable, resourceful man. It was my pleasure to be able to assist. I believe Colonel Phillips will want to speak with you both after you’ve had a decent meal and gotten a change of clothing.” 

 

Once the news broke about Captain America’s daring rescue of nearly 400 prisoners from a Nazi work camp, it was only a matter of time before Steve was recalled to London. While Colonel Phillips made arrangements with members of the High Command for Steve to talk about the map he’d seen, Senator Brandt had scheduled a medal ceremony and a series of benefit shows. 

Steve suspected the senator was also the source behind the reveal of Captain America’s alpha status to the general public. It hadn’t been made much of while he’d only been the star of a traveling show, and Steve had been just as happy to keep it that way; he got plenty of unwanted female attention as it was. But it played right into the storyline of the heroic solo mission and rescue, and the press had a field day with it. 

Taking advantage of this situation, Steve proceeded to make his own set of demands of the senator; he wasn’t going to London alone. The men who had supported him and worked hard to get them all back to friendly territory deserved as much recognition as he did; and if Steve couldn’t make that happen, he could at least get them some leave. Peggy and Howard had flown back to London the day after the rescue, which meant Steve and his new companions had to travel by train instead. 

As for Bucky, he hadn’t had much to say during the debriefing and refused more than a cursory medical inspection. Steve knew why, of course, but he still worried. Worried that even as his omega’s external wounds healed, there was something inside still bruised and battered. Bucky wouldn’t talk about what had happened other than in generalities, but was more than happy to accept the leave and join them in London. He stayed close to Steve throughout their journey, and the casual contact that allowed had to tide them both over. 

They were nearly to London, miles from the coast when Steve caught a whiff of the ocean; no, not the ocean... it was Bucky. He’d told Steve he hadn’t cycled since he joined up. A concoction of Miz O’Meara’s had staved it off during training, then once he went overseas, the stress of combat sent his system into some sort of hibernation. But now that he was back with his bondmate, nature apparently intended to take its course. 

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, “I think...” His hands were clutching the edge of the seat tightly, as if he was having to physically restrain himself from reaching out to his alpha for comfort. 

“Yeah, Buck. I can tell.” 

“What are we gonna do?” The desperate edge in his voice pulled at Steve’s heartstrings. 

“I’ll take care of it.” 

“The Star Spangled Man with a plan -- guess the song was right after all.” Bucky’s tease came out a little forced, but Steve’s response had seemed to reassure him nonetheless, as his tense posture relaxed and he returned to looking out the window of the train. 

They were met at the station by a mix of American and British officials, including Senator Brandt. “Captain Rogers -- I can’t say I approve of your methods, but the ends justify the means, now, don’t they?” he said, clapping Steve heartily on the back. They were whisked away in a convoy of official vehicles, with Brandt ushering Steve into the lead car, separating him from his companions. 

As Brandt droned on about the public appearances he had scheduled for Captain America -- there would be a performance that very night, and two matinees later in the week -- Steve realized he wouldn’t have much time to himself, especially taking into account the more important military briefings that should have been the true reason he was in London. Therefore, he had no compunctions about once again taking advantage of his status to ask a favor. Brandt was more than happy to make the necessary arrangements for Captain Rogers’ lodging. 

It was great to see the girls from the show again; they’d already moved on to the next stop by the time he’d returned to Azzano. Word had traveled fast, however; and they peppered him with questions about the rescue as they practiced throughout the afternoon. Steve had promised Dum-Dum, Jonesy, Morita and the rest that he’d introduce them to his co-stars; they arrived just as the troupe was taking a dinner break, and the girls seemed equally excited to meet them. 

The performance itself went by in a blur; the applause when he stepped out on stage was nearly deafening. As Captain America turned to face Hitler for the 201st time, Steve was taken back to the moment he faced off against Schmidt. Pulling his punch just in time, he saw the flash of alarm in Harry’s eyes. Steve apologized profusely after the show, but Harry laughed it off. 

“About time those muscles get a real workout, Rogers. Go give those Nazis hell.” 

For once, Steve was actually glad to see Brandt, despite the smug, knowing look on the senator’s face. He nudged Steve as he handed over the hotel room key. “Don’t have too much fun, kid. Remember we’ve got the ceremony bright and early tomorrow.” He glanced around backstage, his eyes alighting on several of Steve’s co-stars. “So, who’s the lucky lady?” 

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” 

 

Steve had just finished putting the few items he’d brought with him away, when he heard the familiar ‘shave and a haircut’ knock at the door. Bucky stood there, his duffel in his hand. “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself.” Bucky stepped in, looking around at the room. Steve caught a whiff of Bucky’s omega scent; it had grown stronger just since that morning. There was an odd tang to it that he didn’t quite recall; but perhaps, just as his sight and hearing had improved with the serum, so had his sense of smell. 

Now that they were finally alone, Steve found himself somewhat at a loss for words. “What did you think of the show?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head amusedly. “So that’s how you were spendin’ your time -- traipsing around the country with a buncha pretty girls. Bet they were makin’ eyes at you right from the start.” 

Steve blushed; Bucky wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, til they found out what a failure I am at actually talking to girls, gettin’ all tongue tied and such. Then they felt sorry for me, started treating me like a little brother.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t nothin’ little about you no more, Stevie.” He paused, and in a more sober tone, added, “Don’t s’pose I should tell ya I kinda miss that scrawny punk.” 

Steve really couldn’t blame him. He still felt as if he were a stranger in his own skin, at times. Even something as familiar as a pencil in his hand had felt all wrong at first; too small and fragile. He’d actually broken one the first time he’d gone to sketch out a scene, the lines coming out crude and heavy. He’d had to re-learn the light touch that used to be as natural as breathing. 

“Guess it’ll be nice to not haveta worry about you gettin’ sick all the time, at least.” Bucky walked over to Steve and put his arms up around his shoulders. “This is gonna take some getting used to, tho.” He pushed himself up a little to press a quick peck on Steve’s lips, then grinned seductively. “How’s about you spread a little sugar around?” 

“That’s not all I’d like to spread,” Steve rumbled in reply. Finally being alone with his omega had triggered his own alpha instincts, which -- much like his senses -- had been amplified. 

“Why Captain America!” Bucky responded in a mock-offended tone. “Do you kiss Lady Liberty with that mouth?” 

“Rather kiss you.” Thank god Bucky’s lips still felt the same on his, firm and eager and willing. And even if Bucky’s arms didn’t wrap all the way around him anymore, they still felt like home. But just as the heat of desire started smoldering in Steve’s core, Bucky broke off the kiss and pulled away. 

“Steve, I... can we just... sleep tonight?” 

“Sure, sweetheart.” Steve was naturally a little disappointed, as well as confused. Of course he would follow his omega’s lead, as he knew his own body and needs best. But it was difficult to not read anything into Bucky’s earlier comment, about how he missed Steve’s old self. Maybe he didn’t find this new body as attractive, or was somehow intimidated by his alpha’s size. Regardless, Steve was determined that they could work through it. 

As they stripped down to their undershirts and boxers, Steve stifled a gasp when he finally saw the ravages of Bucky’s imprisonment. Not only was he thin and pale, but there were scars that Steve didn’t recognize, some with edges still red and tender. He longed to kiss each and every one, somehow soothe the pain away. 

However, when Steve reached out to touch one of the marks on his omega’s arm, Bucky pulled away, then reached out to turn off the light. They got into bed, and Bucky turned to face the wall. The emotional whiplash of the past ten minutes left Steve shaken; he didn’t know what to do. He wanted desperately to reassure Bucky, to tell him everything was going to be okay, make him forget all the terrible things that had happened by surrounding him with love and affection. But maybe that wasn’t what Bucky wanted or needed. They’d been apart for months, and they both had changed. It took a long time for Steve to finally fall asleep. 

Disoriented, Steve wasn’t sure at first what woke him. But then he heard it again, Bucky’s low, terrified moan. He could feel the bed shaking; Bucky was trembling violently in his sleep. Reaching out carefully, Steve tried to gently nudge Bucky awake. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just a dream. I’m right here.” 

Bucky startled awake, a half sob, half scream on his lips. Steve immediately pulled him close, afraid of not only waking the neighbors, but of Bucky once again refusing to accept any comfort. Steve was gratified when his bondmate relaxed into his embrace, even if Bucky’s heart still beat wildly and his breaths came in ragged gasps. 

Steve murmured words of comfort and stroked Bucky’s hair. His omega gland was just starting to swell, barely warm to the touch; so he wasn’t as far along as Steve had thought earlier. “Wanna talk about it, sweetheart?” he asked softly. He wasn’t surprised when Bucky shook his head and burrowed further into his arms. “Okay. Let’s get some more sleep, then.” 

The alarm clock went off a few hours later to mark the start of a busy day. After a quick shower, Steve dressed in his brand-new dress uniform. Bucky gave a low wolf-whistle of admiration, “Ya clean up awful good, Stevie.” 

“Thanks.” He felt his cheeks heat a little at the praise. “Wish you could come along, Buck.” But Phillips had been clear, only Captain Rogers’ presence was requested at High Command. “Whatcha got planned for today?” 

“Monty said he’d show us guys around, seein’ as this is his home turf. Gotta get cleaned up first, tho.” Steve was pleased that Bucky would be among friends, instead of wandering a strange city alone. 

He stepped closer and ran a hand down Bucky’s arm. “Sure you’re gonna be okay?” Just because he wasn’t in full heat yet didn’t mean Steve couldn’t worry. 

“As long as I got you around, darlin’.” Steve took the endearment, as well as the earlier compliment as a good sign and pressed a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips. “Now get goin’,” Bucky made a shoo-ing gesture. “Love you.” 

Steve’s heart soared to hear those words from his bondmate once again. “Love you, too.” 

 

It had been a long day, but at least, Steve hoped, a fruitful one. He supposed he’d have to pay for ditching Brandt and the ceremony, but he was tired of playing the dancing monkey. Between the intel about the Hydra bases, and the information Bucky and the other prisoners had already provided about the workings of the factory, Steve finally felt he could do something meaningful to help bring this terrible war to a close. 

Steve pushed open the door to the pub and spotted Dum-Dum right away, regaling his comrades with a story. Steve had an important question to ask all of them, but he wanted to bounce the idea off Bucky first. He found his friend finishing up a game of darts in the back room. Steve pulled him aside afterwards and filled him in on the events of the day, finishing with Phillips’ offer to send him on missions to destroy the Hydra bases he’d seen on the map. 

“But I can’t do it alone, Buck.” Steve nodded towards Dum-Dum and the rest, “I need them.” 

“Don’t go countin’ your chickens before they hatch, pal." 

“You know those men better than I do, Buck -- am I wrong?" Steve countered. "They’re battle-hardened, and have experience with both the enemy and the weapons we’d be facing; you guys helped build ‘em, after all. Look at how quick Dernier figured out that ray-gun rifle! I think we make a good team.” 

“What if they aren’t interested? What if they’ve had enough?” Bucky leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. 

“Then we part ways,” Steve replied with a shrug, “and I’m no worse off than before.” 

With a huff of frustration, Bucky lowered his head. “Better go ask those idiots now, then, before they’re falling down drunk.” 

It didn’t take half as much persuading as Steve had thought; between Monty saying it might be fun, Dernier’s impassioned (and sadly untranslated) speech and Dum-Dum simply asking him to keep the booze flowing, they all agreed to help him take down Hydra. 

Bucky must’ve been listening in, because as soon as Steve rejoined him in the back room, he shook his head. “See? Toldja -- they’re all idiots.” He lifted another glass to his lips. 

“How about you?” Steve asked, “Ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” It was a terrible thing to ask of someone who’d been through what Bucky had, but Steve had to know. Would he want revenge? Or would he want to distance himself; knowing he’d already paid his dues? Steve himself was torn between wanting his omega by his side or safe at home. But the decision was ultimately Bucky’s. 

“Hell no,” he replied with a rueful grin.“That little guy from Brooklyn, who was too dumb not to run away from a fight,” He turned to meet Steve’s eyes. “I’m following him.” Steve should have known that Bucky would be too stubborn to back down. He wasn't going to stop having Steve’s back, even it was twice as broad as before. “But you’re keeping the outfit, right?” 

Leave it to Bucky to make a joke, even as he was throwing himself back into the fight. Well, two could play at that game. “You know what?” Steve looked at the wall, where a benefit poster with his own face had been plastered up. “It’s kinda growin’ on me.” 

And then Peggy walked in, a vision in a bright red dress. Even with Bucky standing right beside him, a breath caught in Steve's throat. “Captain,” she greeted him. 

“Agent Carter.” Bucky watched her like a hawk as she stated that Howard had some equipment for him to try, suggesting tomorrow morning. Peggy then commented about how his “top squad” was prepping for duty, glancing over to where Dum-Dum and the rest were belting out a bawdy drinking song.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky asked; Steve wasn’t quite sure where he was going with the question, but he suspected it was nowhere good. 

“I do, actually,” Peggy replied, looking Steve right in the eyes. “I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” Steve found himself longing for the wail of an air raid siren, just to escape this increasingly uncomfortable situation. 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” It was the same voice Bucky used when they were out on double dates back in Brooklyn, putting up a front and every word loaded with additional meaning. The touch of jealousy in his eyes only made it worse. 

“The right partner,” Peggy said, and in another world, Steve would have taken her up on her clear, if unspoken, offer in a moment. But he couldn’t; not when he had Bucky. She held his gaze a moment longer, then briskly stated, “Oh eight hundred, Captain,” turned and walked away. 

Steve nearly sagged in relief. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.” 

“I’m invisible,” Bucky said, shooting him a sidelong glance as Steve watched Peggy walk away. They had an audience, so he continued. “I’m turning into you. This is like a horrible dream.” 

“Don’t take it so hard,” Steve replied with a plastered on smile. “Maybe she’s got a friend.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve leaves the bar alone, but Bucky eventually comes to him, seeking comfort. The next day, Steve gets in a spot of trouble with Peggy before coming up with something to tease his omega with. The teasing turns to smut-filled pleasing, and all is well with the world.

Steve followed Bucky back to the main room where he ordered a double from the bartender, drank half of it in a single swallow and pulled a chair up to where the other men were seated. 

“So, Sarge,” Dum-Dum said, “Your pal’s champing at the bit to go after the rat-bastards that ran that prison camp. Said there’s a half-dozen or so of their bases scattered over Eastern Europe. Wants to wipe ‘em off the map and asked us to help. What do you think?” 

“I try not to think, when it comes to Steve -- makes my head hurt,” Bucky said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. Once the laughter died down, he continued, “But if anyone can take on Schmidt and his followers, it’s him.” He tipped his glass to Steve, which sparked a toast: “To Captain America!” 

After the men had drank to Steve’s health, Dernier leaned over to ask Jonesy a question. “He wants to know who the belle jeune fille in the red dress was.” Steve was surprised they hadn’t recognized Peggy from the Azzano camp. Admittedly, she had left soon after their arrival and her appearance tonight had been a marked contrast from her usual military uniform. 

“That, gentlemen, was Agent Peggy Carter,” Bucky drawled, enjoying their surprise. “Cleans up good, don’t she? But according to Steve here, she ain’t on the market.” He grinned as the air filled with wolf whistles. 

Steve found himself blushing, and motioning them to be quiet. “It’s not like that at all, trust me, guys. I mean, the first time I met Agent Carter, she punched out another recruit for trying to make time with her. She’s a crack shot with a pistol, has top secret clearance, and goes toe to toe with Phillips when she doesn’t agree with him, which is pretty often. What I’m saying is that Agent Carter deserves your respect, and we’re lucky to have someone like her on our side.” He gave each of the men a stern glance. 

“Ah yes,” Monty added, “the fair English rose who hides sharp thorns; I know the type and we’d best follow the captain’s advice. Why, when I was a lad...” Steve let Monty’s story fade into the background as he tried to wrap his mind around the events of the evening. Peggy had looked so beautiful in that dress; surely she’d worn it to make an impression. Steve considered Peggy an important ally, and a friend, and he didn’t want to lose that. But he didn’t want to lead her on either; he knew that feeling all too well. 

His reverie was interrupted with the delivery of another round, and another toast. “Sorry to break up the party, fellas”, Steve said afterwards, “but I gotta call it a night. Early morning meeting back at headquarters. Walk with me, Buck?” Just to play it safe, Steve had booked a room for Bucky at the same hotel; no one but the housekeepers needed to know whether or not he was actually sleeping there. 

“I’m not quite done here,” Bucky replied. “I’ll catch up later.” There was almost a challenge in his eyes as he looked up at Steve. 

“Okay.” After leaving a hefty tip on top of paying off the tab -- Brandt had supplied a nice bit of walking-around money -- Steve saluted his men and walked out the door. He slowed his steps once he left the building, in hopes that Bucky would have changed his mind, but the space to his left stayed empty during the walk back to the hotel. 

As he undressed for bed, Steve found himself absently rubbing the spot where Bucky’s mark used to be as he worried about his omega. He supposed he just needed to blow off steam, and the other guys would probably keep an eye on him. Steve got in bed with a heavy sigh; he was just about asleep when there was a tapping on his door. When he opened it, there was Bucky, swaying slightly and with flushed cheeks. “Buck, what’s goin’ on?” 

Eyes darkening as he took in Steve’s bared chest and boxers, Bucky growled, “I don’t wanna talk, and I don’t wanna think.” He pushed Steve back into the room and closed the door behind them. “I just wanna feel.” Bucky tasted of whisky and cigarette smoke, his lips and tongue hot and insistent, and Steve’s pulse raced. 

His hand shot up almost automatically to hold Bucky’s head at just the right angle as he kissed his omega fiercely in reply. His other hand gripped Bucky’s hip to bring their bodies together. Bucky moaned into his mouth as Steve crowded him against the wall, pushing his thigh between Bucky’s legs.

Despite the rush of his own desires, Steve knew that Bucky still wasn’t in full heat, and he refused to take advantage of him in his current state. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give his omega some relief, some peace of mind. “Start strippin’ for me, sugar,” Steve rumbled, stepping back to give him room. Bucky reached out to flick the light off, and then skinned out of his shirt and undershirt in short order. 

Steve slowly traced his fingers from Bucky’s neck, down his chest to his beltline, smiling at his omega’s anticipatory trembling. “Gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. Make you forget all your worries.” Steve dropped to his knees as he unfastened Bucky’s belt and trousers. He shushed Bucky’s protests. “You said you didn’t wanna talk.” 

Bucky was already hard, and Steve wrapped his hand firmly around his omega’s shaft, reveling in the velvet hardness and the way it twitched and pulsed at his touch. The needy, desperate whine pushing from Bucky’s lips only stoked Steve’s desire to please. He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Bucky’s cock before flicking his tongue up and down its length. 

The hot, hard weight of his lover’s cock on his tongue as it filled his mouth made Steve wonder -- not for the first time -- what it would feel like to switch places, to spread himself wide for Bucky and welcome him in, feel him thrust deep and hard. He’d never said anything before, afraid Bucky would think him too slight, too fragile to play that role. It wouldn’t be an issue now, he mused. 

But he had a different purpose tonight. To take Bucky out of his own head, and to prove that no matter what else had happened, they were still bondmates. He concentrated his efforts, running his tongue along the sensitive underside of his omega’s cock as he bobbed leisurely up and down. 

He let his fingers slide between Bucky’s legs, tracing a circle around Bucky’s entrance. The muscles twitched as a bit of slick seeped out. Steve spread the warm wetness around, rubbing and pressing just hard enough to make Bucky whine in frustration, torn between pushing back into his hand, or thrusting forward into his mouth. 

“Oh, Stevie, don’t stop, feels so good,” Bucky murmured, his hands roaming restlessly over his alpha’s shoulders and carding through his hair. Steve’s other hand was firmly planted on Bucky’s hip, holding him in place against the wall as Steve slowly, but thoroughly brought his omega to the brink of climax. 

Gratified that he could still read the signals of his lover’s body, Steve grasped the base of Bucky’s cock tightly before standing quickly and pressing close. “Mark me, Bucky. Claim me as yours -- I don’t belong to the army, or to Peggy. Just to you.” With a few quick strokes, Bucky was spilling over both their stomachs as he sank his teeth deep into his alpha’s skin. Steve gasped with mingled pain and pleasure, a rush of fire flashing through his veins. 

He held Bucky tight, eventually walking them both over to the sink, and then the bed. Steve tucked his omega in tenderly, then pressed a handkerchief to his wound to staunch the bleeding. Finally, Steve laid down and curled protectively around his bondmate, already asleep. His own desires slowly ebbed away; they could wait for another time. 

 

By the next morning, the usual symptoms of Bucky’s heat had kicked in. He was flushed and sweaty one moment, then curled up in a ball, shivering under the covers the next. Steve ordered in breakfast, but the mere smell of the eggs and sausage sent Bucky running for the bathroom. Afterwards, he could barely choke down some coffee and dry toast. Steve left him with a bottle of aspirin and a hot water bottle, and set the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. It was the best he could do for now. 

Distracted by worrying about Bucky, Steve was barely listening to the pretty blonde private as he waited to meet with his superiors. It wasn’t until she said, “Of course an alpha would be brave enough to take on a solo mission behind enemy lines,” that he realized the floral fragrance in the room wasn’t her perfume; it was her omega scent. 

By that time, she was standing right in front of him. Her eyes were aglow as she grabbed his tie and reeled him in. The kiss felt all wrong; she was too small, too soft. But his frustrated alpha instincts reacting to the presence of an omega -- combined with her own determination -- made it impossible to push her away. That is, until he heard Peggy’s shocked exclamation. 

Steve was well aware he deserved Agent Carter’s tart rejoinders, and quite probably the potshots she’d taken at him as well. He assumed she already knew the bullets wouldn’t ricochet off the shield and cause further harm. At least he hoped she had -- the term ‘trial by fire’ came to mind. 

Stark’s commiseration about not understanding women, as well as his amused explanation -- “fondue is just cheese and bread, my friend” -- had only made things worse, in a way. Part of Steve had hoped that Peggy was interested in the genius millionaire as well, and he could therefore encourage that relationship. But with Stark indicating that he preferred to immerse himself in work than deal with the fairer sex, it seemed unlikely. 

After barely enough time to get something to eat at the canteen, Steve was on his way back to the theater for another performance. During the drive, his minder said that Brandt had signed Captain America up for an appearance at a local hospital the following morning. “I’m supposed to pick you up at nine am. You’ll spend a couple of hours there, then be back here in time for tomorrow’s show.” Steve sighed; he’d hoped to have the morning off to spend time with Bucky, but then an idea occurred to him. 

“I assume I should wear the uniform to the hospital?” he asked. 

The aide shrugged, “Probably. Brandt didn’t say.” 

The costume mistress didn’t have any problem with his request, either. “Just be careful with the boots, Rogers. I have no idea where to get more red shoe polish.” 

After the show, Steve took off the cowl and the gloves, stuffing them in the pockets of the long trench coat he threw over the rest of the costume. After his minder dropped him off, he crossed the hotel lobby quickly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The upstairs hallway was deserted, so Steve took the time to don the rest of the outfit before opening the door. 

Bucky looked up, nearly dropping the magazine he’d been reading when he got a gander at what his alpha was wearing. “Jesus, Stevie, I was just jokin’!” Bucky laughed, but there was a hungry look in his eyes as he took in the sight. Hamming it up a bit, Steve turned a slow circle, then struck a heroic pose. 

“Aren’t you going to salute Captain America, Sergeant?” he asked with a grin. 

“Trust me, darlin’, I’m salutin’.” Bucky prowled over to where Steve was standing, his nostrils flaring as he palmed his alpha’s crotch. “Seems like you’re standin’ at attention, yourself.” 

Steve certainly was; not only had the mere idea of wearing the uniform for Bucky aroused him, but his omega’s scent had hit him hard the moment he opened the door. However, he was in the mood to flirt a bit more before getting down to business. He traced a gloved finger around the open collar of Bucky’s shirt, then tugged on the chain that held his dog tags, pulling him close. “So, you’re saying you love a man in uniform?” 

“Could love him better once he gets out of it.” Bucky reached up to push the cowl back over Steve’s head, then proceeded to use it as leverage to pull him into an exhilarating kiss. Even through the gloves, Steve could feel the heat of his bondmate’s body. And when he ran his hand through Bucky’s hair, his omega gland was so swollen that just grazing it sparked urgent moaning and rutting. It was as if Steve had turned on a switch, his omega going from flirtatious to frenzied. 

Steve had wanted to make a show of removing the costume, tease Bucky a little, but he was already too far gone, whining impatiently as he tried to find the hidden fastenings. “What, did they sew you into these glad rags, pal?” he complained. 

“Hold on, sweetheart,” Steve pushed Bucky’s hands away. “I’ll take care of this. How about you get a little more comfortable yourself.” 

As they both stripped down, Bucky looked Steve over, with a significant pause about halfway down. “I was a little worried you’d gotten bigger down there, too,” he said, with a relieved expression. “It was already about all I could handle.” 

“Well, I do bounce back a lot quicker now,” Steve replied with a sly smile. They’d both been frustrated before when Steve had come too soon, or couldn’t get it back up after an initial bout of lovemaking wasn’t enough to satisfy either of them 

“Oh,” Bucky said faintly, “So, you’ve--” 

“No!” Steve protested. “No, sweetheart ... I’d never... not with anyone else. I just,” and he made a quick motion with his hand and wrist, “had to try it out for myself a coupla times.” Pulling his omega back into his arms, he continued, “I told you, Buck, you’re my one and only.” 

Sighing contentedly in reply, Bucky rested his head against his alpha’s chest as he squeezed Steve’s biceps. “Can I tell ya somethin’? I kinda liked the way you held me against the wall last night.” 

“You did, huh? Want me to muscle you around a bit, sugar? Maybe pin you down to the bed?” 

Bucky looked up, his eyes wide and dark. “Yes, alpha, please!” 

Suiting deed to word, Steve walked Bucky backwards across the room as they kissed some more. Pushing him down on the bed, Steve held Bucky’s arms above his head as he straddled him. Grabbing both wrists with one hand, he reached down with the other, wrapping his hand around both their cocks. Bucky arched up into the contact with a throaty moan. 

“Want me to take the edge off first, sweetheart? Steve asked; in the past, he had occasionally gotten Bucky off during their foreplay; he usually recovered in time for a second orgasm. Bucky shook his head. 

“Want you deep inside me when I come, alpha. Want you filling me up,” he panted in reply. “Need you so bad.” 

Steve bent down to indulge in a filthy-sweet kiss. “It would be my pleasure, omega. How do you want it?” He got up, both to let Bucky reposition himself, as well as to snag a rubber from his duffel and put it on. 

Bucky moved to lay on his side, one knee pulled up to his chest. Steve usually preferred face to face, but knew he could go deeper and hit the right angles more often with this position. It also put Bucky’s omega gland in easy reach. Steve stretched out behind Bucky, running a hand over his ass and into his cleft, finding him already wet and loose. 

“Did you start without me, sweetheart?” he breathed into his lover’s ear, sliding two fingers inside with barely any resistance. 

“Couldn’t help it,” he gasped, his neck going red. “I got all riled up thinkin’ of you up on stage in that uniform, the way your arms ‘n chest looked when you lifted the motorcycle over your head.” He pushed back into Steve’s hand, clearly begging for more. “Barely made a dent. I was hard again five minutes after I finished.” 

“Well, then let’s see if I can wear you out, sugar.” Steve teased his omega a few moments more, before slicking himself up and sliding in. He went faster that he probably should have, given Bucky’s abrupt grunt, but his alpha desires had momentarily taken over. He began with slow, shallow thrusts, but his partner’s pleas of “More” and “Harder”, fanned the flames. Steve slid one arm under Bucky, pulling him close, while he placed his other hand on his omega’s hip, holding him firmly as he increased his pace and depth. 

Bucky’s moans of pleasure started rising in tone, and Steve shifted his hand downward, intending to stroke him to climax. But Bucky swatted his hand away, saying, “ ‘m already plenty close. Wanna come on your cock, alpha.” That nearly sent Steve over the edge in and of itself, but he regained his control, determined to give his omega what he needed. 

“Oh darlin’, you’re taking me so good,” Steve crooned, knowing how much Bucky liked a bit of dirty talk. “So hot, so tight.” He nuzzled the back of Bucky’s neck, as he ran his thumb over his lover’s peaked nipples. “Wish I could stay here forever, buried deep inside you.” Bucky’s thighs started to shake, and Steve murmured, “Let yourself go, dearest. Come for me, my omega.”

Bucky pushed his face into the pillow to muffle his cry of release, shuddering and shaking his way through a massive orgasm. Once again on the brink, Steve gripped Bucky’s hip tightly enough to leave bruises. Biting down on Bucky’s neck, he thrust deep and came hard enough to see stars.

With Bucky still twitching and fluttering around him, Steve’s knot quickly swelled, locking them together. He licked and mouthed at Bucky’s gland, milking every last drop as his omega sobbed with pleasure. “So good for me, sweetheart,” Steve murmured. “Love you so much.”

Bucky lay his head back on Steve’s shoulder, breathing hard with his eyes bright and wide. “Steve, love you, my alpha, love you,” he babbled. Holding his bondmate close, Steve soothed him with kisses and caresses and murmured endearments. Once they were done, he got them both cleaned up and they drifted off to sleep. Sheltered in his alpha’s arms, Bucky slept through the night, untroubled by bad dreams. 

Steve was reluctant to leave his omega the next morning, but Bucky wouldn’t hear of him shirking his duties. Helping Steve don his uniform, he said, “Go out there and be a hero, darlin’. Just come back to me when you can.” 

“I will, Buck,” Steve promised. “I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided our boys needed a happy ending here, instead of continuing on through canon, as that's already been touched on in the follow-on fic - To Shield From the Storm - and further repercussions can be expected in the third installment, probably coming this summer. 
> 
> Thanks for reading - kudos and comments are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Introduction  
> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](http://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites the following types of feedback:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
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